


Ilderton Hall

by imaginedandreal



Series: we were a bright thread in life's chronicle [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Historical AU, Historical Romance, Slow Burn, World War I, obstacles on the way to HEA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-06-15 19:00:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 83,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15419505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedandreal/pseuds/imaginedandreal
Summary: The butler's son became friends with the earl's daughter, virtually from birth. Their lives had much to say about that, however...A Downton Abbey AU.





	1. Origins

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I can't help myself but begin this. I've wanted to for a long time, and I hope anyone who reads this likes it as much as I do when I write it.
> 
> 2) For the most part, the universe created here is a fictional earldom in the early 20th century-England. There will be a few historical characters, whom I would indicate, to distinguish them from my OC's. I'm more or less familiar with the historical details, but please excuse any mistakes or inconsistencies. 
> 
> 3) This first chapter is a kind of background, so it's clearer why the relationships between the 'adults' are the way they are. All the rest of this fic will focus on everyone knows who ;) Also, this one has a ton of POV-changes, which are hopefully not hard to follow.
> 
> 4) Comments are wholeheartedly appreciated <3

Joseph Moir was from a working-class family that followed tradition. His father, and grandfather, and a whole sequence of great-greats had been butlers for all the earls and countesses of Ilderton, ever since the nineteenth century. The aristocratic family and their servants resided in the resplendent Ilderton Hall, a sprawling ancient country estate in Surrey.

Joe himself was the younger brother of both his parents’ sons, and so there wasn’t, at first, any hint that he would inherit his father’s position. 

 

Three important things hastened Joe’s rise to the occasion. James Virtue, son of the twelfth Earl of Ilderton, was the heir apparent, and he was looking for a bride, having passed his early twenties. Joe Moir’s father, the head butler of the estate, was by now ailing in his advanced age, and Joe, who was valet to James, was starting to take over more and more of his father’s duties. 

James left to Canada, on business. He came back engaged six months later. The year was 1898. 

 

It was nearly the brink of the century, and pages were turning in the lives of several people at Ilderton. For Joe, whose father passed away several days before James returned. For James, having started to say goodbye to bachelorhood. 

Last but not least, it all changed for young Katherine McCormick, the heiress to a small banking empire from London, Ontario, Canada. 

Joe observed the peculiar couple and was bewildered by the changes in his friend. Where did the James Virtue from the past go? It seemed like only yesterday they were Jim and Joe, two best chums in Eton College, and were famed throughout their class for their boisterous behavior. 

Now, Jim had become ‘Young Lord James’, and spent his days taking Katherine to the theater, playing cricket with her, and otherwise courting her. 

“There’s the young lord promenading his Canadian mademoiselle,” this or that member the staff said, whenever a glimpse of the tall gentleman and an equally graceful-statured lady was seen traipsing the paths of the adjacent park. 

Joe always thought that, while Katherine looked infatuated, James was more subdued in his affections. Of course, he might have just been uncomfortable showing his feelings so explicitly, yet he looked like a winner of an auction who now possessed something coveted and expensive. Expensive, that was true - Katherine was an only child, and her parents were very generous with the amount of dowry that the young socialite brought to England. 

How can these people purchase love? This and other many questions about Joe’s superiors would remain unanswered. 

Joe Moir himself would soon fall under the spell of love, truer and deeper than his wealthy friend could hope to experience.

 

Another blow came when the older of the Moir brothers died, unexpectedly and in the bloom of youth. The strong, always robust young man fell prey to pneumonia, for who knew what reason. He did not get the chance to be the butler that he was meant to be.

Joe was devastated. He hadn’t known his mother, who died shortly after giving birth to him. His father had died not a month ago. And now, his beloved older brother and confidant left, so heartbreakingly early. Poor Joe was left all alone in the world, that felt cold and empty, without a shred of hope or light.

Comfort came to him from a surprising source.

 

Katherine, who would soon become Virtue, needed a lady’s maid. The earl, James’s father,  approved to hire a daughter of the town midwife, and, after a brief introduction, she became the newest member of Ilderton staff. 

Alma MacCormack was supposed to follow in her mother’s footsteps, so she was schooled in midwifery more than in the skills of a chambermaid. Luck shone on her life in the form of this new position, which would be infinitely better paid than what she wanted initially. Katherine wasn’t strict or nitpicky, and she wanted more to have a maid of her own age than some old-fashioned middle-aged matron.

The more Joe and Alma interacted, the closer they became. Or, as close as was fitting for a butler and a chambermaid. The searing sadness that was his only emotion after his brother’s death melted under Alma’s sweet smile and bright hazel eyes. Something about this gentle, soft-spoken girl captivated Joe. She appeared wise beyond her twenty years of age. The few words that they could trade in between hectic days of work became too little to make them happy. Both lived from holiday to holiday, from Christmas to Easter and all the feasts in between, when the kind old earl organized a servants’ dance. And so, after one such occasion, Joe finally took Alma’s hand and led her to the earl’s office.

The permission for marriage was given, but the two hardly had a moment to celebrate it, what with all the flurry of preparations for James and Katherine’s wedding. 

On a June day in 1899, the English earl’s son and the daughter of a Canadian businessman said their vows in a lavish ceremony. Joe and Alma sat towards the back of the church and traded secret smiles: they would be in the same shoes very soon.

A week later, when the aristocratic newlyweds were on their honeymoon in Italy, Joe married Alma in the tiny town chapel. But they didn’t need fancy details, nevermind that they were two servants. Decked out in their Sunday best, they beamed at each other to the applause of the entire team of servants, during their own small party. Katherine had gifted Alma an old dress, but in Joe’s eyes, his bride would have been beautiful in an old burlap sack, for all he cared. They were so, so happy, that even the old earl’s sudden collapse from a heart illness could not dim their lives.

 

It was significantly harder for James. He expected to begin a comfortable life with Katherine when they returned to England. Instead, he came home to a seriously ill father and an irritatingly happy married butler in charge of his household. It became obvious in a matter of days that the old earl of Ilderton was quite rapidly deteriorating. 

A little over two months after the couple’s return, at dawn, Joe Moir knocked on James and Katherine’s bedchamber door. When the other man opened, his butler informed him that the old earl had died in his sleep.

 

Katherine Virtue was crying that whole morning. She was fond of the late earl; he reminded her of her own father, far away in distant Canada. Here, in this grand English estate, many of her new acquaintances were formal and sometimes even scornful of her. Katherine’s natural shyness was almost always mistaken for coldness in her new country, and she very quickly learned not to expect sincere friendship with anyone. That is, anyone except the former Alma MacCormack, who was now her housekeeper, Mrs. Moir. Katherine could not stop crying in general for weeks now, over any subject. She gritted her teeth when Alma tightened the laces of her corset. She could hardly taste a morsel at any mealtime. She felt as if she were losing her mind. 

Alma’s past experience with all things midwife predicted her mistress’s condition. Katherine cried harder when she learned the news of the old earl’s death. The other person who did everything to alleviate her loneliness was gone. She was truly in love with her husband, but James was so busy and oddly distant with her now that he was the new earl. She hoped with all her heart that he would warm up to her with the arrival of their first child, that he would again be the loving man he was in the time of their courtship in Canada and here.

“That’s wonderful news, Kate,” was all he said, offering her a perfunctory smile as she told him. He might as well have been talking about a cow who would be having a calf. 

If she were completely honest with herself, she believed that James only cared about getting an heir out of the deal. 

 

Alma and Joe themselves were expecting their first, to be born at roughly the same time as Katherine and James’s child. 

When Katherine’s time came, Alma, large in her pregnancy, could hardly calm the terrified woman, who was consumed with the first-time panic at everything, and most of all, the agonizing pain that seemed to have no threshold. As the hours crawled by and the labor grew more challenging, James ordered for his wife to be taken to the town hospital. 

The expected heir turned out a healthy baby girl. 

Katherine was shocked, confused. The doctors had been so sure in their predictions. James…

How will James react?

In the first hour or so when the baby was brought to her, she stared at this creature that had ripped its way from her body and, in desperation, wished it to miraculously become a boy. James came to see them three days later, and did not seem upset; or was hiding it well - he stroked the baby’s head with a quite gentle hand. But then he stood up after a half-hour or so, telling her that he had business in town.

Already in the doorway to Katherine’s hospital ward, he turned to look at her. “The Moirs had a son this morning,” he said.

His tense expression told her much more than that.

 

As their daughter grew, James acquired some kind of almost stubborn affection for her. He was determined to make her the heir - or heiress - that he did not have yet. He insisted that she was given the name Jordan, the name of the son she was supposed to have been. Until she turned six, James persuaded the nanny to cut her hair shorter. If it wasn’t for her dresses and pinafores, little Jordan could well pass as a boy. Nobody was surprised that she liked to play with little boys the most, and notably Charlie Moir, her peer in everything except status.

It continued in the same manner. Jordan learned her alphabet and her numbers by looking over the figures in the estate documents. Katherine remembered the first time that Jordan scrambled onto James’s knee in his study. She was clutching a French porcelain doll that she received on Christmas, but looking at something well beyond her six year-old understanding. The contrast of their daughter’s innocence with what her father was getting her used to was quite simply a strange thing to observe. He loved his child, it was true, but it was a strategic love, one that wasn’t too full of genuine fatherly warmth. 

Jordan’s sixth birthday had been even stranger. James was parading her like she were a large porcelain doll come alive, in front of a handful of guests.

“Here’s the future Countess of Ilderton!” he kept declaring, a too-enthusiastic smile on his face. The guests only exchanged puzzled glances. 

Katherine’s heart ached. She knew why James was doing this.

He was fashioning a perfect little heiress out of their Jordan, because she, his wife, failed to grant his wish again three years ago.

 

Katherine’s second pregnancy had turned out completely unexpected. The Moirs, meanwhile, were by that time raising three year-old Charlie, two year-old Daniel, Danny for short, and their youngest, Scott, who had just turned six months. 

When the physician at the hospital told her, “Another beautiful little girl, Your Ladyship,” Katherine just closed her eyes, exhausted of everything. They had to perform an emergency cesarean section on her, and her coming back to reality was a horribly difficult experience. 

She had an idea of how James would react to  _ another beautiful little girl. _ For a second or two, the words burned her worse than the freshly stitched scars on her body.

 

The tiny newborn child  _ was  _ beautiful. Katherine cried tears of genuine joy, holding her close. She was so small and yet so adorable, like a painting of a cherub. 

“You are a girl, I know, sweetheart. But you are my sweet little daughter. So is your sister. All mine.”

As if hearing her, the child opened her eyes. Two tiny perfect emerald-green eyes looked right into Katherine’s for a moment.

Katherine exhaled, nuzzling her nose into the little sweet-smelling head. There was that familiar pang in her heart, but now it was one of love.

This child, along with Jordan, will always know that they are wanted. Loved. Cherished.

Sons and heirs be damned.

_ James _ be damned.

Later, she started citing headache and tiredness to stop James’s advances in the evening. Still later, she simply told him  _ no _ , and continued to, from time to time. Even later still, she began to sleep in another room, inventing excuses about their bedroom being too hot, or the mattress too hard, or anything really.

James, for his own part, began to vanish for days on end during something he called ‘business in London.’ It wasn’t too hard for Katherine to guess what else he might have started to do besides business.

The gap between them widened without a hope to be mended.

Katherine named her newest little girl Tessa, overriding James’s protests. That was one of few things with which she began to assert herself as an individual. 

 

“So I tell him,  _ ‘My congratulations to Your Lordship and Her Ladyship,’  _ don’t I, and he just stares at me as if I’m hardly there. I repeat, and he says,  _ ‘Fetch me my cuff links, please, Moir.’ _ One would think he didn’t have anything to do with the baby, God forgive me.”

Joe was indignant when he came back to their cottage to retell Alma his earlier interaction with James. 

Alma looked at him incredulously. “He’s out of his mind!” she burst out.

Now, Joe had to marvel at the instant change that took over his wife. She began to pace to and fro, gesturing in frustration as she continued. “If he told you nothing, I can only imagine what the Countess had heard from him! Is he _insane_?! It’s not the Countess’s fault that he can only make girls!”

Joe could only stare. Did his even-tempered wife really use such a crass expression?

“He is lucky he even has living children! He should be thanking heavens, the selfish son of…” Alma cut herself off, under Joe’s warning look. 

Little Scott woke up and began to whimper. Alma strode over to the cradle to pick him up, and rocked him with a still-angry expression. “A father should love his children, no matter who they are. I cannot believe he’s so selfish and  _ stupid _ and narrow-minded.”

It hit Joe, again, the realization that Alma was a midwife’s daughter. That she had witnessed many births, in addition to her own. That she saw babies and mothers die several occasions. He understood fully why the Earl’s behavior outraged her. 

Alma looked at him sharply. “Would you love our boys less if they were girls?”

The question caught Joe off-guard, but he knew his answer anyway. He looked at Scott, who was cooing something, bunching Alma’s blouse in a chubby fist. “Of course I wouldn’t love them less. It makes no difference to me.”

A commotion sounded from the children’s bedroom, and Charlie rushed into their small living room. “Ma, Pa, Danny won’t give me back my train!” He pointed accusingly at his younger brother, who was scurrying behind him, happily clutching the toy. “Gimme my train, you little brat!”

Alma gasped. She detached Scott from her embrace, and rounded in on her older sons. She grasped Charlie by the shoulders. 

“Do not  _ ever  _ call your brothers that, Charles,” she hissed. “They are  _ not  _ brats. They are your  _ brothers.  _ There’s only three of you in the world, and you should support each other, not bicker about nonsense. Am I understood?”

Charlie nodded, subdued into obedience. Danny looked a bit nervous himself.

“And you, Danny, have to share. Take turns playing with Charlie,” she instructed the child. “Now, hug and make peace. You are brothers, and you have to be kind to each other.”

“Yes, Ma,” chorused the little boys. They hugged, each keeping a hand on the disputed train anyway, and returned to their room, seemingly reconciled. 

Joe, who had gone to comfort a squalling Scott, could just look at his wife in surprise. She sometimes was quite the mother bear, as much as they both spoiled their boys.

Alma sighed, taking Scott again. “It appears His Lordship only cares that his children be the preferred gender. Just look at what he’s been doing with that poor Jordan. The child is  _ three  _ and he is puppeting her and forcing the role of the future countess onto her. Sometimes I think he’s quite...obsessed. It’s not right and not fair to those sweet little girls whose only fault is not being male.” 

“You know, the Countess is very stubborn about them being raised normally, not as failed heirs. I think that’s very good, and the correct way to deal with all this,” Joe mused. “If anything, let the little ladies play with our three lads. It’ll do well by them to have interaction with various social circles.” At that, he circled Alma’s own waist with an arm and pinched Scott’s cheek, to the little boy’s giggle. 

 

*

Joe’s suggestion sat well with the Countess and - surprisingly - the Earl as well. Alma, preoccupied with two toddlers, plus a half-year-old, had to stay home temporarily, until little Scott could at least be weaned. The housekeeper of a wealthy family could hardly afford a wet nurse, not even at the beginning of the 20th century. Alma’s homestay was helpful for Katherine as well, because she had to nurse newborn Tessa. As a countess, she could not; she spent a few stolen weeks doing it while recovering from birth, and then gave Tessa over to Alma (thus also saving money on a wet nurse of her own. Alma and Joe refused payment for this informal nanny position). 

So, the little girl spent much of her time in the Moirs’ cottage - and so did Jordan. But Alma let the Earl’s older daughter run free (somewhat) with Charlie and Danny, and watched them from their small porch, with Scott and Tessa nestled on her lap together. Tessa was six months old when Scott, a curious and outgoing one year-old, began to take a lot of interest in his tiny neighbor. 

On one November evening, Alma was watching Jordan and Tessa again. Jordan, as always, partnered with the older Moir boys and they played together in their bedroom. Alma was reading Scott a bedtime story, from the children’s book that Katherine lent her. 

Scott, though, was paying more attention to Tessa, sleeping in his old cradle. Alma finished and closed the book, but her son didn’t clap excitedly like he usually did and request another story. He folded his arms and was studying the sleeping baby.

“Wock cwadle, Ma?” he asked. Alma smiled to that. The baby did really look like a doll in her lacy wrappings.

“No, Scotty, we should let Tessie sleep,” she told him. Scott turned eager eyes back to the cradle.

“But I wock when Tessie wake up?” he persisted. Alma laughed and ruffled his wispy hair.

“Very well, you may rock her if she wakes up and starts crying.” 

As if by cue, Tessa cracked her eyes open. Then blinked them completely awake.

“Ooh,” Scott breathed. His hand hovered above the baby. “Tessie wake up!” 

“Shh,” Alma hushed him softly, curbing his enthusiasm. She held his hand gently before his eager touch alarmed the tiny child. 

“Gween!” Scott giggled suddenly. “Gween, Ma!” Alma was barely fast enough to catch his other hand, which already almost touched the tiny eyelids. 

“Yes, my little lady has the prettiest eyes, but she’s not a toy, son. She’s a little child. You have to be gentle. No poking baby Tessie in the eyes. Be gentle,” she instructed him. 

Scott’s full attention was on the baby. “Gentle,” he repeated softly, reaching out to lightly touch his chubby fingertips to Tessa’s little head. Surprisingly, the baby’s face broke into a smile. Scott positively glowed at such a reaction. 

The bundle of energy that he was tugged on his mother’s sleeve. “You see, Ma? Tessie smile!”

“I see, I see, little imp,” she said fondly. Meanwhile, baby Tessa directed her big, round green eyes onto Scott, and cooed, a sound that meant she was also enjoying being in the spotlight. 

Joe came back from the estate, his work finished for the day, and they all set about preparing to have dinner. It was common practice in the recent months for the Moirs to give dinner to Jordan, when she was at their cottage. As for Tessa, she would partake of a portion Scott’s milk, because Alma began to give him more solid food little by little.

Jordan always sat at the table as decorously as her three-year-old mischief would allow her. Sure, she had bouts of spatting with Charlie or Danny (and even a bit of food throwing, though rarely), but Alma and Joe were able to patiently subdue her into good behavior. Moreover, they understood that the older Virtue child wasn’t naturally disobedient or spoiled - only boisterous and outgoing. Tessa could not be more different. Here was an ‘angel-child’ as Alma called her most of the time. She would quietly latch onto the bottle and eat her fill without fussing. 

After dinner, Alma washed Jordan’s face, brushed her hair and smoothed down her pinafore, preparing her for Katherine’s return. Scott was, again, not to be pulled away from Tessa’s cradle, rocking it with surprising care. 

“Tessie, Tessie, baby Tessie,” he talked to her softly in a sing-song voice. The child listened curiously, taking in this, slightly bigger than herself, person with her large eyes.

The rocking cradle made a  _ creak creak creak  _ which complemented the barely audible snapping of wood in the fireplace. Jordan sensed her Mama’s near arrival, so she was luckily out of her troublemaking mood, and sat calmly on the settee with Charlie and Danny. 

This relatively idyllic scene was interrupted by a knock. Alma was nearest to the door, and she unlatched it.

Katherine, swathed in her mink coat, entered. Joe got to his feet the moment he saw her. “Evening, milady,” he said politely.

Katherine smiled, still (after all the years!) a minuscule bit uncomfortable to be treated with pomp. “Good evening, Joseph. How were my little ones? Too unmanageable?”

“Not in the least, Your Ladyship,” Alma answered for her husband, but he was nodding with good humor. “Would you care for a cup of tea? The weather is quite poor, from what I’ve been seeing.” She helped Katherine remove her heavy coat.

“Just some sleet. No worries, Alma, I’m in the carriage, after all. Do let me say hello to the children.”

Katherine walked into the small living room. Charlie and Danny imitated their father in standing up respectfully. “Good evening, Your Ladyship,” they said solemnly, more or less in unison, with funny little bows. 

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Katherine replied seriously, but the corners of her lips twitched.

“Mama.” Jordan, too, scrambled off the settee. She sketched her mother a wobbly curtsy that made all three adults grin. 

“My little one.” Katherine kissed her cheek and held her for a moment, even after her daughter’s little ceremony. After all, her children were so little and already forced to half-abandon blissful childhood for the sake of integrating into strict societal roles.

Alma saw that Scott was yet too busy with entertaining the littlest child they had there (and still with: “Tessie, Tessie, baby Tessie,” to which Tessa was now giggling).

“Scott? Her Ladyship the Countess wants to say hello to you,” Joseph told him, to get his attention back.

Scott turned to Katherine, who was smiling at him kindly, and surveyed her with interest.

“Say, ‘How do you do, Your Ladyship?’” Alma encouraged.

The little boy gave it his best. “How dee do, Wadyship?” More amused smiling from his parents and Katherine, who told him, “I am very well, thank you, Master Moir,” with as much joking solemnity as she did with Charlie and Danny.

_ How she would have loved to have a simple life like this. With her daughters, of course, and even with her husband, too. Maybe he would be different in such an environment. To have this home, this hearth, this quiet familial affection that Joe and Alma had, and that she and James so lacked now. How much better would it be than being an aristocrat. _

“Well, I regret to say, we must go now. It’s shortly past Jordan’s bedtime, and the weather is so unpredictable. I want us safely home,” said Katherine finally. Alma set to bundling Jordan up in her own little coat, and then approached the cradle to take Tessa.

Alarm flitted over Scott’s little face. “Tessie go?” he asked nervously. His small hands gripped the side of the cradle, as if he wanted to fight off anyone who dared take his new companion away.

“Don’t worry, child.” It was Katherine who soothed him, looking at him with a promise. “Tessie will come back. She has to go home now, but you definitely will see more of her,” she placated the little boy.

Scott seemed to take her word for it, because he let her lean and take Tessa without further ado. Joseph went after her and the two little girls, to safely see them into their carriage.

Charlie and Danny watched the carriage turn around and out of their yard. Scott scampered to them, and wriggled in between them. Charlie pulled him up so he would see from behind the window.

“Bye, Tessie! Bye, bye, bye!” he called shrilly, waving with all his might, no matter that she couldn't possibly hear.

And yes, he would spend much more time with little Lady Tessa Virtue, to his - and eventually her own - happiness.


	2. "Scott!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter is cute. We all love baby Tess and Scott, and I loved writing them :p
> 
> (Ugh so I'm jumping around their ages here, but this one mainly focuses on them as 3 year-olds. I'm just trying to move the plot along, so I'm not focusing in great detail on their babyhood. There will be a chapter or a few next about their older childhood, and I'll take it from there).
> 
> I love all your comments/feedback/words <3 please give me them <3

Tessa’s earliest memories were made in the Moirs’ cottage, in the Virtues’ park, and in the many intricately furnished rooms of Ilderton Hall. The only unchanged constant was her companion in all her childish games and adventures.

Scott.

Her first friend, other than her big sister.

Her first words had been about him, too.

 

Tessa turned one and all her close family had been expecting the moment when she would say her first real words, not simply adorable baby-speak. And that day came, but the words weren’t at all expected.

She had been with Jordan in the nursery, while her four-year-old sister coaxed the child to wear her old tutu skirt, that the kind Mrs. Moir had made by request for her second birthday. Jordan couldn’t waste an opportunity to make a little doll out of Tessa. Jordan imagined herself playing house, with Tessa as her baby.

“...so, Tessie, I shall take my shawl, and we are going to the modiste. My evening dress is just about finished.”

Jordan was completely immersed in the role of mother, with a serious expression, so amusingly contrasting to her small face. She took an afghan from the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders, imitating how their Mama wore it in the evenings, if there was no company.

Little Tessa was distractedly playing with the froth of the tutu, but then suddenly scowled.

“Cut!” she said, clearly and loudly, in a chirpy little voice. Jordan’s eyes widened.

“Mama! Mama! Come!”

In her excitement, she let the afghan fall off her shoulders onto the floor, and wasted no time in leaving Tessa still sitting on the couch.

Katherine entered the nursery, ushered in by an overexcited Jordan. “Mama, she’s talking! But the only thing she said is ‘cut.’ Tessie?” The big sister pinched the little one’s chubby cheek. “Can you repeat what you said to Mama?”

Katherine smiled, a flutter of happiness in her chest. “What have you said, sweetheart? Tell Mama.”

Tessa, her mood suddenly changing towards the negative, pushed Jordan away and struggled to get down from her seat. “Want cut!” she yelled, stamping her little leather-slippered foot. “Cut!” she repeated, growing stubborn, reaching to tug at her mother’s skirt rather forcefully.

 _Want_ was a word that could reasonably be the first for any baby, but _cut_? This child was endlessly bewildering - but endearing - to observe.

“What do you want to cut, my little emerald?” Katherine gathered her close in an attempt to calm her and decipher this odd first communication.

Jordan suddenly clapped her hands, as if understanding. “I know! I think she’s trying to say ‘Scott’!”

 _Knock knock._ “Your Ladyship? I showed the girl who is trying for kitchen maid to your office. I Meanwhile, I have someone here to play with Tessa.”

That was Alma, poking her head into the nursery, but the door was opened wider, and someone smaller wriggled into the room.

“Tessie!”

Tessa’s disgruntled pout melted into absolute delight, as soon as she recognized the visitor. " _Cut!!!_ ” she squealed.

She stumbled in her still-unsure way of walking towards him, but he was already running, and, in his own happiness, he knocked into her when he gathered her into a very boisterous little-boy hug. Giggling together, they tumbled one over the other onto the floor, until Scott propped himself up next to Tessa, who still laughed happily, grabbing at him with her tiny hand to indicate that she wanted to play. Scott noticed her tutu skirt, once his giggling subsided, for the most part.

“Tutu! Yes? Tutu?” he said, sounding for all the world like he was asking her opinion of his new spontaneous nickname for her. He ruffled the tulle playfully, to Tessa’s happy laughter.

“Tutu!” she copied him, grinning and showing him her five new teeth variously placed in her little mouth. Scott flashed her a gap-toothed grin back, his eyes (already at one and a half!) sparking with mischief.

Their mothers smiled, looking at the adorable scene. But its cuteness was interrupted by Jordan, to whom came the following brilliant idea:

“Ooh! I will play mama, and you two will be my children!”

 

And Jordan _would_ be their eager playmate, even as _Tessie_ and _Cut_ became _Tutu_ and _Scott_ to each other, and as both their vocabulary and the games they played turned a bit more varied than being a pair of real-life dolls for Jordan’s amusement. Until Tessa’s older sister entered the schooling age at six, and was now expected to sit for long and boring hours in their newly prepared small schoolroom with her tutor and French governess. Tessa and Scott were still carefree and away from the challenges of education, and so their days passed in quiet play (he introduced her to floating toy boats, and she him to drawing) and less quiet exploration of Ilderton’s nearest vicinities. They would become even partners in tree climbing and sledding and all the other games of tag and hide-and-seek in between.

Tessa knew, instinctively, that Scott was trustworthy and loyal. It manifested itself even in the tiniest gestures early on.

 

When Tessa turned three, she began to show lots of spirit and even a bit of rebelliousness from time to time. At one dinner in her and Jordan’s nursery, the little girl had been restless and a bit cranky (who’d think that the sweet-natured younger Virtue could be _cranky_? Every household member, down to the kitchen girls, could attest to her winning smile and cheerful laugh at the ready).

Jordan, by now fancying herself very mature, always mothered her little sister. And so during that particular dinner, she was rather impatiently watching the nanny feed Tessa her soup. The little girl wasn’t very eager to eat, and her elderly caretaker had to cajole her into swallowing every other spoon, because for one spoonful successfully eaten, Tessa shook her head away in refusal of the other.

Jordan was watching the scene, a bit dissatisfied, but for her own reason. Tess was taking her time this evening, and her older sister was eager to have their traditional pound cake dessert, which came after the main meal. “Let me do it, Nanny,” she said finally, reaching her hand for the bowl.

The nanny smiled kindly. “Here, sweetheart,” she agreed, and handed the bowl and spoon over to her. Jordan spooned some soup and raised it towards Tessa’s stubbornly pouting mouth.

“Come, Tessie,” she used her gentlest voice for persuasion. “Eat a spoon for Jo, won’t you?”

Tessa kept shaking her head, repeating, “No! No!”

“Don’t be difficult, or I’ll make Nanny call Mama,” Jordan switched sweetness for strictness, making a deliberately frowning face. “You have to eat.”

“No! I don’t wanna! The soup is icky!” protested Tessa. She pushed her chair away from the table, and then - before Jordan or the nanny could do anything - shoved herself at her older sister and sank tiny teeth into her wrist.

A yelp, and the soup bowl dropped onto the floor, soaking the carpet with brownish-green mush. In the midst of Jordan shouting, “What’s gotten into you? You’re a bad girl, Tessa! You can’t _bite people_!” Tessa screeching, “The soup is icky and so are you!” and the nanny requesting them to calm down over and over, the nursery door swung open.

Katherine and James, both clad in their evening clothes, looked on the scene in astonishment. They were just preparing to receive guests for dinner, but, at Kate’s insistence, had gone to check on their children, and found mayhem in their always relatively calm room.

“Mama, she bit me!”

“The soup was icky!”

“Your Lordship, Your Ladyship, I do apologize, the children gave me quite a shock, and I never expected it of our sweet Tessie…”

With some difficulty (being pressed for time), the parents managed to untangle who disliked the soup and who bit whom - with minimal damage to the poor old nanny’s reputation in the eyes of her employers. The consequences were decided on the spot.

“Tessa, you cannot have any cake this evening, I’m afraid. You didn’t behave as a little lady and a good sister should.”

A pout, and tears swimming in the depths of the puppy-eyes she was making at her mother and father.

“Sweetheart, you must remember that you _can’t_ bite anyone, especially not your sister. You owe her an apology as well.”

“I’m sorry, Jo,” the little girl acknowledged in a shaky voice. She raised her arms pleadingly.

Jordan hugged her baby sister tightly. Something about Tessa’s forlorn tone made her forget about the bite on the spot. She looked at the three adults defiantly.

“If Tessa can’t have any cake, then I won’t either.” No cake in the world, not even pound cake, was worth seeing the sister she loved in tears over it. Whether they were fighting or not.

 

The nanny told Alma all about the incident, later on, and the women smiled about how adorable the little Virtue girls were, even in their impish moods. And Alma told it to Joe in the evening, but they had a pair of different ears present, that perked up the minute they caught Tessa’s name.

Only Scott had his own opinion concerning it. He barely even heard what his friend did. What offended him was what happened later.

 _They took away Tessa’s cake._ Scott’s three-year-old mind could imagine no worse punishment.

He had to do something.

 

“Do you know, our Scott has apparently learned to steal,” Alma said, with a small sigh, the following evening. Joe startled away from the newspaper he had been reading.

“What do you mean?”

“Our little imp decided it was unfair that Tessa couldn’t have her cake _and_ bite her sister, so -” Alma indicated the empty candy tin on top of the kitchen table. “He brought these to her, ‘because he didn’t want Tessie to be sad.’ Just snuck them out in his pockets when I brought the Countess the fresh ladies’ journal today.”

Joe had to admire his youngest son’s cunning, no matter how he disapproved of him going behind everyone’s back.

 

Neither the Moir parents nor the Virtues knew what an overjoyed exclamation Tessa let out when Scott gave her the candy, and how she hugged Scott, this one person that was able to determine what exactly cheered her up at any time.

“Scott! Candy? For me?” in her happiness, she could hardly find the correct words to say. It was so unexpected, but so wonderful. Scott was beaming at her, proud of himself for managing to set the adults’ injustice right.

“For you, Tutu,” he said. And that was all he needed to say.

Little though Tessa was, she sensed that she was indebted to her friend for his wonderful gesture. So, when the two of them were confronted with demands to explain themselves, especially Scott’s actions, she looked at her parents impassively and said, “Scott didn’t take it. I did, from Mama’s purse.” Her mother had brought her and Jordan some sweets from town, and Tessa _did_ take one or two (she, like Scott, praised herself for her quick thinking).

And all the four adults involved were so taken aback at how _loyal_ these two small and innocent children were to each other, that they didn’t have the heart to chastise them beyond a lecture on why stealing was wrong.

 

The friendship between them grew by leaps and bounds from that time on. They faced everything together: their parents, their older siblings, the outside world and all its discoveries. Tessa grew to realize that friendship with Scott was probably her main source of happiness in life - apart from interesting books, pretty dresses, and days spent in the park. They were equal partners in all their games, all their time spent together puzzling over the mysteries of the wide world that adults lived in. Of course, by the time they began their own school, Tessa knew that she was an earl’s daughter, and that Scott’s parents worked for hers; she simply didn’t think it was a detriment to their friendship at all. Scott, luckily, thought nothing of it too.

 

And then, when they turned nine, Scott did what she expected the least from him: he called her _milady._

 


	3. Paths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long with this; writer's block plus busyness isn't a good combo :/ I'm also sorry that this chapter dilutes some of the syrupy fluff with a bit of angst, but I hope it's enjoyable. Also, I'm delighted by everyone's responses. It gives me great fulfillment to be able to write something that others enjoy :D
> 
> An aside, this chapter title is from Thomas Hardy’s poem “The Convergence of the Twain,” about the sinking of the Titanic: “...they were bent/By paths coincident/On being anon twin halves of one august event.”

_ 1912 _

“Milady, will you and your parents be traveling on board of the  _ Titanic _ ?”

Tessa’s head snapped up from the needlepoint sampler she had been stitching at. She looked at Scott, and found him looking back expectantly.

“What did you say?” 

They were in the Moirs’ cottage, cozy inside on the settee in front of the fireplace, while a January snowfall blanketed the world outside the window. But Tessa felt a sudden chill, as if someone dumped some of the snow onto her head without warning. 

Scott turned over a page of his schoolbook. Yet, his eyes were following Tessa’s. “I just wanted to know if you’ll travel on the  _ Titanic _ , that’s all, milady,” he repeated, with a small shrug. There it was, again. One simple little word that made the soft cushions of the settee hard like rocks against her back, and the warm homey atmosphere of the living room with its fireplace turned almost icy. 

“Why are you calling me ‘milady’?” she pressed him, not bothering to answer his direct question. Scott gave her a look, eyebrows knotted a slight bit. Interestingly enough, his ears reddened.

“Because you are a lady. I must be respectful.” 

Tessa could not believe what she heard. “ _Scott_!” she exclaimed, putting all of her dismay into it. Her sampler was carelessly cast aside, and she turned to face him, determined to set everything as it was before. “I never would think that _you_ care about this nonsense. We’ve grown up together, you’ve always called me ‘Tess,’ no silly etiquette! We were equals, no matter what. What changed? You don’t want to be friends anymore?”

Scott looked uncomfortable himself, and Tessa was glad to realize (in the back of her mind) that he at least made the effort to be formally polite with her because the circumstances  _ forced  _ him, not because he  _ wanted  _ to be. 

“We are growing up,” he pointed out, quietly and hesitantly, like he was talking about an unpleasant future looming over them. “I won’t be able to be your equal anymore. But I do want to be friends, I do,” he added hastily, to smooth her raised eyebrows. “I just think...my parents say that we - me and Charlie and Danny - can’t be taking liberties with you and your sister. We can be friendly, but it doesn’t mean we will always interact as equals. That we…” here he sighed heavily, suddenly looking older than nine for a second. “That we should know where our place is.”

“Stop talking like that!” Tessa burst out, tears at the horrible injustice springing to her eyes. “What do you mean, know your place? Who cares that your father is a butler and your mother is a housekeeper? It’s not as if you are our  _ slaves _ !” she argued vehemently. “You’re still Scott, my friend, and I want to stay the same to you. I want to be your friend Tessa, not some cold and foreign Lady Tessa Virtue.” 

Scott’s face relaxed into familiar warm camaraderie at those words, Tessa noted with relief. Sunbeams of humor were sneaking in and out of his eyes. “Then everything will stay the same, mil -” And he put his hands up defensively, when her eyes narrowed. “Look, I didn’t say it, I didn’t!” laughing and coaxing Tessa to laugh, herself. 

“So,  _ will  _ you go on the  _ Titanic _ ?” A glint of jealousy at that prospect colored his eyes. Scott was veritably obsessed with everything concerning ships.

Tessa considered it. “I don’t know. I don’t care very much for ships,” she said, but being sure that she said it gently, not to make Scott think she was ungrateful at a possibility of traveling on such a grand vessel. “I’d prefer to stay here. But then, if we go, my parents might visit my Mama’s relatives in Canada, and I would meet them, too. So, we’ll see.”

 

“Papa has the tickets, Scott! We are going across the ocean!”

Tessa was running breathlessly towards the cottage, holding on to her hat with one hand, and waving to Scott with the other. She forgot all about ‘not caring to travel by ships,’ as she had told him earlier. As soon as their parents told her and Jordan that the plan to travel overseas was taking shape, she’d been tremendously excited. She still wasn’t as deeply taken with everything ship-related, like Scott was, yet he was the person with whom she was the most eager to share her great news.

Sure enough, Scott’s eyes widened with surprise, when he heard her. “You’re joking!” He ran up to her, from where he had been helping Charlie, Danny and their father repair the front stoop. The two older boys and Joe stopped what they were doing and called out hello to Tessa as well.

“No!” Tessa was beaming, as Scott evened with her, all expectation. “Not joking! Look!” Out of her small purse, she pulled out a neatly printed ticket. She’d taken hers from her parents to show Scott, after copious promises to guard it very carefully and not lose it.

Scott stared at the piece of paper. “April 12?” he exclaimed, quickly doing calculations in his mind. “That’s a bit under a month away.” Tessa looked to him and was surprised to see a bit of regret in his face. But she sensed why.

“It’s all right, Scott,” she reassured him. “A few weeks, and we will be returning. Meanwhile, I hope you won’t get too ahead of me in your lessons,” she joked. Scott pulled a face.

“Right, you will be having the time of your life on the best ship in the world, while I’ll be stuck in plain old Ilderton, thinking about lessons and work,” he pretended to complain, returning her the ticket.

Tessa suddenly remembered her parents talking about a third-class deck on the ship, and briefly wondered if the Moirs knew about it. Then again, she thought, with a frisson of discomfort, even if they knew about the third deck, maybe they couldn’t afford it. Also, who would watch over Ilderton, make sure the estate and the grounds are running smoothly, while the Virtues are gone? 

“Ilderton is anything but plain, though,” she said, watching Charlie and Danny bicker about who was better at hammering the new step into the wood of the porch. “Your family works so hard to help make it beautiful. The house, the pond, the garden. And your cottage, too,” she gestured to the repairs, and Scott grinned. 

“Thanks, Tess,” he said. A little pause hung between them, and the three others who were nearby noticed it. 

Joe looked at his youngest. “Remember your manners, Scott.” But his chiding was good-natured, and he was smiling. 

Scott straightened up into a stiff and official pose. His twinkling eyes contradicted it. “Oh, I meant, thank you, milady, thank you kindly for your compliments.” 

The two looked at each other and simultaneously burst into giggles. After the first incident when Scott called Tessa that, they agreed to only use it when their parents or other adults were around. It was a deliberate show of how well-raised they were, like when they sat straight at the table and correctly used their eating utensils, but, during their one-on-one time, they gobbled up their food (usually sweets) with little regard for manners. 

Tessa decided to tease him back. “All right then, Mr. Scott Moir,” she said, tossing her head. “I must go and start preparing for my adventure.”  _ Her first adventure without him, _ she thought, again a bit unsettled at the realization. Scott, however, was smiling warmly.

“I’ll see you around,” he told her. “There’s still a long time before you leave.”

Tessa returned his smile. “Of course,” she agreed. She said goodbye to Joe, Charlie, and Danny, and turned to leave home. 

Scott was smiling and waving, as if he was already watching her sail away on the majestic ship, towards mysterious destinations.

 

But it was not to be and, at first, Tessa was entirely crestfallen about the change in plans.

“We can’t go on the  _ Titanic  _ after all,” her father informed them all, one day, as they still sat eating their breakfast. 

Tessa almost choked on her bite of toast and marmalade.  _ What?  _ Next to her, Jordan was equally stunned. Their mother put her teacup down and stared at their father intently.

“Is anything wrong, James?” she questioned, full of concern. “Anything about the ship?”   
“No, nothing is amiss with the ship. It’s just I have to stay behind in Ilderton for a while. There are a few...issues with the bank maintenance that I really want settled sooner, rather than later,” her father explained. The Virtues co-owned the town bank, with another family, and her father spent most of his time there. 

Jordan and Tessa exchanged a look. Kate didn’t comment. “And I’d rather not have you and the girls travel alone, forgive me for being honest,” James told his wife. She nodded in a resigned way.

“Well, I suppose we’d better reimburse our tickets, in that case.” Her husband agreed to that, and the rest of breakfast passed in more silence than conversation.  

It all sounded like a poor April First joke, and even the date matched, except her father had been dead serious. She was honestly disappointed, but tried to console herself.  _ I’m only nine,  _ she figured.  _ I still have my whole life to travel on the sea and ocean. This isn’t so bad.  _

Their tickets were soon reimbursed, their luggages soon unpacked and put back in place at home. The Moir brothers, too, tried to cheer Tessa and Jordan up in their own way:

“Don’t worry, we’ll grow up, buy a ship of our own, and all go sailing together!”

Tessa, though, noticed that Scott looked a bit relieved that she wouldn’t be gone soon.

 

The morning of April 15th dawned bright, and Tessa found herself awake much earlier than she was used to be. At first, she thought that it was the glaring sunshine outside that woke her, but soon realized, yawning and stretching lazily, that it was something about the whole  _ house. _

Her and Jordan’s room was moved from the nursery to a slightly bigger space on the second floor. Often, the sisters could hear the muted voices and other noise that maids and valets and footmen made outside the door. Now, the eerie silence was oppressive and heavy.

Tessa and Jordan, having woken up completely, decided to venture downstairs to investigate the reasons for their house being so quiet. And everything was the same as always in the hallways, but for the quietness. The maids didn’t giggle and whisper as they went about their work. The footmen didn’t crack jokes with the maids. 

She and Jordan tiptoed to the drawing room, having no choice but to press their ears to the door. Again, only muffled sounds that were barely audible. Both quickly looked at each other, and then Jordan raised her hand, wavered for a bit, and knocked. Pushed the door lightly, and the sisters slipped inside.

“Good...good morning, Mama, Papa,” Jordan began, but something made her stop approaching. Tessa, echoing the greeting, stepped out from behind her to see.

Their mother and Mrs. Moir were sitting on the couch together, hugging and  _ crying.  _ For a flash, Tessa was reminded of how she and Jordan sometimes huddled close to each other when they were smaller, during violent thunderstorms. Their father, always a serious man, looked exceedingly somber and grave, quietly showing something to a nodding Mr. Moir. In his hands was a freshly-printed newspaper, and Tessa tried to decipher the large black block letters that were upside down.

_ T-I-T-A-N-I-C... _ What? What about it?

Their father turned towards them, staring as if he saw them for the first time. He was clearly fighting some inner battle. 

“Tessa. Jordan.” Their mother and Mrs. Moir leaned away from each other. Tessa saw her Mama hand Scott’s her handkerchief. 

“What happened to the  _ Titanic _ , Papa?” Tessa herself spoke up, in a slightly shaky voice of a child that wasn’t used to be talking in front of everyone. 

Her father cleared his throat, looking uneasy. “Children...there are very bad news,” he said, hoarsely. 

“James!” Her mother stared at him pleadingly. 

“They have to know, Kate. I know they’re children, but they _ have to know. _ ” 

Next to Tessa, Jordan was as confused and anxious. “What, Papa? Tell us what happened.”

His older daughter coaxed James into talking. “The  _ Titanic  _ collided with an iceberg and sank at 2 o’clock this past night.” 

 

After the initial shock wore off for the two young sisters, Tessa took a moment to think about it. Yes, it was very dreadful that the ship was destroyed, but why did her mother and Mrs. Moir cry so bitterly? With a flash of cold fear, Tessa suddenly struggled to recall if any friends, or - God forbid - family had been on board. No names or faces came to mind. 

The three Moir brothers reacted with similar confusion. 

“That’s awful,” said Charlie.

“I thought they said the ship couldn’t ever sink!” said Danny.

“I’m so glad you didn’t go,” said Scott, looking genuinely scared, for the first time that Tessa could remember. 

_ I’m glad we didn’t, either,  _ she thought, with a little shudder.

 

At the end of April, a woman named Margaret Brown came to visit Ilderton.

Mrs. Brown was an acquaintance. She and Kate Virtue had met in Canada, shortly before she got engaged and had to move away to England. Tessa’s mother had described her before as cheerful and outgoing, energetic and enthusiastic about so many topics, the first of which was the question of female emancipation. Tessa was too young to understand what  _ emancipation  _ meant, but she was eager for this visiting lady to dispel some of the gloom that had settled over her home ever since they learned the news of the  _ Titanic.  _

Mrs. Brown, or, as her parents addressed her, Maggie, was hardly talkative. If she did say anything about her own experience in the disaster, neither Tessa nor Jordan expected to hear any of it, because they were told, in no uncertain terms, that they could be free now, as soon as they were introduced. ‘Freedom’ meant that they had to leave, because children shouldn’t listen in to adult conversations.

“Yes, Mama,” Tessa said immediately, and she and Jordan closed the drawing room door after exiting. Tessa was just about ready to go out into the warm, sunny garden, when Jordan pulled her sleeve.

“What are you -”

“Shh!” 

Jordan inched over to the door and slowly cracked it open a tiny bit. It didn’t creak. She put her ear against the wood, a conspiratory little smile on her face. Tessa hesitated, but copied her sister, as curiosity won over listening to the information to which they weren’t entitled.

They could only hear snippets.

“...Everyone thought it was a joke, at first. There was this large thud, a collision, but everyone was so sure of the ship being unbreakable, that the possibility of sinking seemed preposterous. No one moved for a while, and then, just like that, everyone was running around, panicking…In time, they announced that we are sinking, and ladies and children had to get into the lifeboats.

“And you?” Their mother’s voice was clearly tearful.

Mrs. Brown’s voice, in contrast, was sharp. “I had to do  _ something _ , even though I was scared witless. I started rowing one of the lifeboats towards the ship, to make sure we didn’t leave anyone behind, but now I realize that it was stupid of me, completely careless. I could have overturned the lifeboat by accident, or it could have been swamped by the weight of the passengers. But at that moment, I only thought about the poor people still stuck on the ship. Dying.”

A pause. A clear sob from Kate.

“You were brave, Maggie. So brave, to take initiative that way.”

“That wasn’t bravery. You know what Ida Strauss did? She refused to go in the lifeboat, saying that she went wherever her husband would go. They were putting women and children onto the boats, first, and Ida said she would stay with Isidor, no matter what. They both were…” Mrs. Brown’s steady voice faltered. “I saw them standing on the deck, holding hands. Just waiting to drown.”

“The men who were left were quite at a loss. They all just looked so helpless. There was one cabin boy, looked no older than eighteen. Just a slip of a lad, you know. He was knocked overboard and into the water, and I wanted to row and pick him up immediately, but then our lifeboat began to sway with all the waves around, and at one moment, I thought that this was the end for us, but I managed to convince everyone near me to keep calm. And all the while that poor boy just flailed around, screaming, “My God! My God!” 

Mrs. Brown took a shaky breath. “It appeared he’d lost his mind from the fear. That was how he drowned, a few minutes later. Well, not him only. So many more did, too. I’ve never seen so much death at once. If hell had water in it, that was the very middle of hell we have been to.”

_ Death...so much death... _ The words were devastating.

Tessa turned to look at Jordan, and the renewed shock that she felt was mirrored in her sister’s face. Only now did she understand the magnitude of what happened, and  _ what  _ she and her family had miraculously avoided. An almost sickening flash of fear pushed into her mind - she imagined herself and Scott on that sinking ship, being forced apart forever by a merciless chain of events like the one she just heard discussed. A tiny sob escaped her own chest, inadvertently. 

“ _ Scott _ ,” she whispered, and promptly took off running, down the hallway, out of the front entrance, into the garden, and away, away, away from that drawing room door, behind which were these nightmarish stories about dying people, like a horrible ending to a fairy tale that began happily.

She found Scott animatedly talking about something to Danny and Charlie by the pond, and she made a beeline for her friend, ignoring Jordan’s “Tessa! Tess!” as she followed.

But Tessa launched herself into Scott’s confused arms, after he was only able to ask, “Tutu? What’s-” and squeezed him tighter than she ever hugged anyone yet. 

“Scott...oh Scott, I’m so, so glad I never went on that stupid trip. I can’t believe we…” her breath hitched with the unspoken:  _ I can’t believe we narrowly avoided death.  _

Scott was hugging her back, he was warm and comforting and just...her friend. Her precious friend, whom she promptly promised herself never to leave. 

Danny, Charlie, and Jordan were staring at them.

“Do you understand anything?” asked Jordan hesitantly, pointing at their hugging younger siblings. Yes, what she and Tessa had eavesdropped on was shocking, horrifying, awful, but Jordan didn’t feel quite so affected by it.

The older Moirs shrugged, but did not interrupt. Scott had put his arms around Tessa, too, even though he looked as confused as his brothers and her sister were.

Tessa hiccuped out a teary explanation, meanwhile. “We just...I know listening on other people talking is bad, but this woman, Mrs. Brown, she was saying the worst things. She was telling Mama how everyone was drowning on the...the ship, and how...oh, I can’t even imagine what I’d do if I was there. I got so scared.” 

Scott held her, steadily, and she felt the shivers of horror shrinking away. “Tess...poor Tess, it’s all right. Don’t cry. You’re safe, I promise. You’re safe here in Ilderton, and so is Jordan. You’re not in any danger, and I’ll make sure you stay out of it.”

Tessa pulled away from him, as abruptly as she had hugged him. She felt a strange embarrassment, both at her outburst of feelings and at the fact that she, a great big girl of nine (as she told herself) got so scared of something that couldn’t be changed, anyway. 

“Thanks. ‘M’allright now,” she sniffled. Scott’s expression had some concern left over, and Charlie, Danny, and Jordan were still watching awkwardly. So she tacked on a forcibly enthusiastic smile, trying to dispel all this fear and the horrible reality of life all around them. Tessa simply wanted her - their - life to go back to normal, or as close to normal as possible. And she would begin to pretend like it  _ was _ normal immediately. Until all these harrowing events were firmly in the past.

“What are you Moirs up to today?”

The three brothers snuck glances at each other. “We were just trying to keep Scott out of trouble,” Charlie said, but his mischievous eyes confirmed that it wasn’t Scott who was looking for trouble. Scott rolled his eyes with a quiet, “Stop it!” and impish giggling was the answer from both Charlie and Danny.

Jordan was studying the pond in front of them. “What’s this boat doing here? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.” 

Tessa, too, finally noticed the small wooden boat. Danny, his eyes still twinkling, explained, “Scotty here was too scared to get in.”

“Was  _ not _ !” Scott protested, all indignation. “Pa said we shouldn’t go near his new fishing boat!” Danny laughed, and poked him teasingly.

“Aww, little Scotty is scared to go in the big, dangerous pond!”

Scott shoved him away. “Am not!” 

“Are too!” Charlie joined in the teasing, ruffling his little brother’s hair, which only irked him further.

“Am not!”

“Are too!” 

“AM NOT!”

“Listen! Why don’t we  _ all _ go for a boat ride? From this edge of the pond to the other one and back. I’m sure your father won’t mind.” Jordan, who was surveying the argument and calmly chewing on a grass blade, made the unexpected suggestion.

Charlie and Danny perked up, all teasing forgotten. “Brilliant!” they exclaimed in unison. They knew already that Jordan was far from being the ‘sensible older Virtue girl’ and could be counted on where adventures were concerned. 

“I’m in,” Scott added confidently. “And you, Tess?”

Tessa eyed the harmless-looking vessel, and a chill ran down her back, so jarring in the middle of a warm spring day. As she now could bitterly confirm, she knew that sometimes ships and water weren’t even remotely fun - that they could be dangerous, frightening,  _ deadly.  _ But she looked at Scott, who clearly liked the idea of a quick paddle across the pond. Would she find the courage to enjoy herself for his sake?   
The brothers and her sister were waiting for her answer. 

“I don’t know,” Tessa found herself confessing. Her cheeks burned with the conflicting embarrassment and trepidation and a wish to overcome it. She fixed her stare on the water. 

Jordan made an impatient grunt. “ _ Tessa _ ,” she said, with all the annoyance of a mature older sister at her timid little one. “Don’t be  _ silly.  _ It’s not the  _ Titanic.  _ No one will drown. Don’t you want to have fun?”

Charlie and Danny agreed immediately (“Of course!” “Come on, Tessa, nothing bad will happen!”)

Scott looked at her, then. “If you don’t want to, I can stay here with you and watch these three make fools out of themselves. They can’t row, and I can,” he asserted, giving her an easy smile - at once reassuring and caring. 

And Tessa decided. No, she wasn’t going to make Scott coddle her and force him to stay behind, when he so clearly wanted to go on that boat.

“I’m in,” she said, to an all-around: “Hurray!”

 

But inevitably, five excited children all scrambling to fit inside the narrow space didn’t bode well as far as keeping the boat steady was concerned. Somehow, they managed to cram themselves without overturning it, and Charlie untied it from the small dock. Next, serious issues about rowing privilege arose.

“Give  _ me  _ the oar, Scott! I’m the oldest!”

“Well, Pa showed  _ me  _ how to row last week! I know how to do it!”

“You boys are an ill-mannered lot! Let me and Tessa row. Ladies first!”

“Jordan, no, stop, you’re gonna splash- look what you did! That’s my new dress!”

“Just give me the oar and I’ll show you how! Give me the oar! GIVE IT!”

“HA! Now wait your turn, baby Scotty!”

“ _ I! Am! NOT! A! Baby! _ ”

A threatening sway of the boat’s right side, and they all were evened in their predicament. They were so busy bickering that it took several moments for them to realize that they changed the dry boat for (admittedly cold) pond water. Jordan shrieked and began a haphazard paddle back towards the bank. Tessa found herself outright panicking as she started to struggle and move her limbs, either to get back on the boat, or to swim to safety herself, or she didn’t even know what. The pond, which was really shallow, suddenly seemed like a trap of horrible depth, no chance of escape; plus, her clothes were weighing her down. Until Scott’s sputtering, wet-haired head emerged near her, and she felt, with relief, that he had grasped her and was half-swimming, half-pulling her along out of the water. 

“I’ve got you.” He panted from exertion. “Hold on, Tutu.” She clung to him and then, they were on solid ground, to her immense relief. 

Next to them, Jordan, coughing out a bit of the water, was being rescued by Charlie and Danny’s combined effort. Drenched completely and shivering, they contemplated what to do next, when:

“What on earth are you all doing in the pond? Charlie, Danny, Scott! What is this?”

Mrs. Moir was running towards them. Her flapping skirts gave her the impression of an agitated mother goose, but Tessa was rather not inclined to laugh at the moment. The other four were also looking at Mrs. Moir with varying degrees of nervousness.

_ Oh.  _ It looked like someone found trouble after all, and not only Scott, but the whole company.

 

After she scolded them some (though not too severely, being ever the kind mother and housekeeper), Mrs. Moir herded them back towards the general direction of home, intending to drop off her unruly sons at the cottage and take the Virtue sisters to their own house (with minimal fuss), but a chance encounter ruined the plan. 

Namely, the Earl, who was just exiting his automobile, happened to turn his head in an unnecessary direction, and paused when his gaze landed on the group.

For a moment, he seemed to give an exasperated sigh, as if that was the very thing he expected to see upon arrival from work - his daughters and his butler’s sons, all soaked to the last thread, led by his housekeeper. 

Mrs. Moir sighed too, but let him approach them. Tessa, though, was nervous. What would they tell him when he asks for explanations? Will he or Mrs. Moir tell Mr. Moir about their antics with the fishing boat? She really didn’t want Scott or his brothers to be reprimanded.

“Hmm,” her father began. He crossed his arms and studied the soggy, forlorn gang. “I thought late April was still a bit early for a swim.” Tessa could not gauge whether he was angry at them or not, though, so she didn’t reply, and neither did anyone else.

Until she saw, with great surprise, that Scott looked right at her father. “I’m sorry, Your Lordship, it was all my fault. I was showing everyone the carp in our pond, and we waded in too deeply by accident.”

_ What?!  _ Tessa made a split-second decision. She wasn’t about to let Scott take all the blame.

James raised his eyebrows slightly. “I see.” To Tessa, he looked amused more than anything, but she spoke up anyway.

“No, Papa, Scott’s wrong. It was my idea to go wading. I didn’t mean any harm,” she hurried to explain. She felt the astonished eyes of Jordan and the Moirs on her, but held her father’s gaze all the same.

Apparently, her partners in crime also decided to take responsibility.

“No, Papa, it was actually my fault, because -”

“Your Lordship, we’re so sorry, we should have been more careful -”

“All right, all right.” James held up a hand and they all quieted. “I don’t want you rascals to catch your colds, so this once, we’ll forget who decided to wade and who preferred to swim.” His mouth twitched a tiny amount, as if he was holding back laughter. “Mrs. Moir, take our young adventurers to the kitchen to warm them up and give them something to eat. You all can try wading again in the summer.”

Mrs. Moir was smiling too. “Certainly, milord,” she replied.

“So...so we won’t be punished?” Tessa asked, still hesitantly. Her father shook his head, and the children all smiled in mutual relief. 

“Just try to avoid offseason pastimes for the future.” And he smiled a little, too. 

 

Later that evening, Tessa was grateful to be safely in her bed, after all the challenges of the day. She understood, as much as she was able to, at nine, that childhood wouldn’t only be full of carefree adventures, and that for adults, adventures could sometimes come at the expense of danger. She would go on to dream of unsinkable ships that perished like pieces of driftwood, and of a little boy who told her he had to call her a lady, or else he won’t be allowed to play with her. 

Her childhood, though, still afforded her a safety net - she forgot all about her troubling dreams in the morning.

Because the morning meant a new day at Ilderton. And, at Ilderton, she would always have Scott, her friend to whom all her paths led. 


	4. Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit Tessa-centric. I love writing them as children, and I hope that works well, because in the next chapters, I hope to make the transition from childhood to adolescence.
> 
> Enjoy and tell me what you think. Comments are diamonds!

_ Fall 1913 _

“But Mama, nothing bad happened! Scott watched over me while I climbed that tree. It wasn’t very high, either. Why are you angry with me?” 

Tessa couldn’t understand why her mother was displeased. She was a big girl, she was ten years old! If she said she was being careful, that’s how it was. If she said Scott was a trustworthy partner in tree climbing, why couldn’t anyone take their word for it?

Kate sighed. “Tessa, child, I’m not angry. But I have to say this, a girl of your age should... _ conduct _ herself differently. It’s rather ill-behaved to devote so much time to rowdy pastimes. You have to learn how to carry yourself like a young lady, and not a little troublemaker. You might be only ten now, but in a few short years, you will be presented in society, and there will be certain behavior expected of you. So you should get used to it. Other than that, it’s quite dangerous even for adults to climb trees. I know Scott would protect you, but being safe is better than being sorry.” 

Her mother gave her a reassuring smile. 

“I understand, Mama,” Tessa replied, in slight defeat. Though, while saying it, she stubbornly added in her head:  _ But I don’t agree with you. _

Lately, there was far too much talk of being a young lady, and not nearly enough fun with Scott. Of course, both had schoolwork to pay attention to, but they still made their best effort to spend time together. 

In contrast to her younger sister, Jordan, at thirteen, seemed to care about this ‘young lady’ pish-posh more than she cared about playing, Tessa noticed. She and her friends were forever daydreaming about their first season, that longed-for  _ début  _ in front of the King’s court, and giggling about future beaux, too - being careful not to discuss the latter when adults were near. Tessa admitted to herself that she didn’t much like one friend of Jordan’s, Meryl Davis. Meryl was a daughter of Americans, and she was shallow in that she only cared about potential gentlemen and parties (“And that, at only fourteen! The child might ruin herself,” Kate had said, to one of  _ her  _ friends). At least Jordan was an involved and diligent student, excelling in the sciences. Meryl was about as interesting an individual as a girl from a lady’s journal article. She wasn’t rude, but her world was her wardrobe of clothes and her discussion of society life.

Tessa was hardly eager to enter adulthood, with all its rules and restraints. How she wished, sometimes, that childhood could last forever. But she loved Ilderton, and she secretly wanted to be her father’s heiress, instead of Jordan. Her older sister, who liked spending time with their father when she was a child, and look over the estate documents, grew out of that. Tessa, meanwhile, went along with him to the bank, helped him organize his papers in his study, and was curious about all the work done around their home. She felt that, if ever it had to happen, she could manage to supervise this expanse plot of land. 

 

_ She remembered, at seven years old, that her parents were out one day visiting at a neighboring manor, and she and Jordan were left under the governess’s and Mrs. Moir’s care. The front entrance doorbell rang. Mrs. Moir cracked open the door, and told whoever it was outside to come later, since the lady and the lord were currently absent. The person outside replied that she was the tutor, and she had come by the request of the Earl and Countess, to interview.  _

_ Tessa approached, hesitantly. “Mrs. Moir, would you mind...if you are busy, I can show the lady to the library. I’m sure my parents won’t mind her waiting for them.” _

_ Mrs. Moir smiled and nodded. “Thank you, dear. That would be lovely, in fact.” She pulled open the door. “Come in, please,” she told the lady. _

_ The lady did, with a few words of gratitude. “Good evening. My name is Suzanne Killing,” she said, addressing Tessa and smiling kindly. _

_ Now was the opportunity for Tessa to show her good manners. “Good evening, Miss Killing,” she said solemnly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Lady Tessa Jane McCormick Virtue, the younger daughter of the Earl of Ilderton.”  _

_ For a moment, Tessa wavered between curtsying and not; on one hand, she was a lady, and Suzanne was, for a lack of better word, not of the nobility. On the other hand, she was a child, and she was meeting an adult. In the end, she decided to give her most gracious reverence, all under Mrs. Moir’s approving look.  _

_ “If you would please follow me, Miss Killing. I will show you to the library so we might wait for my parents to return. It will not be longer than a half hour,” Tessa offered, and Suzanne accepted. They settled themselves on the library sofa, and Tessa spied a bell on the coffee table, one that her parents used to call in the staff. Somehow, her hand automatically reached for it. A maid entered. _

_ “Mary, please be kind to bring us tea. And please call Lady Jordan here,” she said, in a soft but confident voice. Mary obliged, but was hiding a smile, interestingly enough. Jordan came, and was also on her best behavior with Suzanne. While the three of them had their tea, their guest went on to explain that she was hoping to become their etiquette tutor. The girls, as their parents already discussed, had to learn proper society manner, in addition to the standard school subjects. _

_ Their parents returned, and Suzanne was promptly hired the next day. But what happened after was the most surprising of all. _

_ Her parents revealed that Suzanne’s arrival was a test all on its own. Apparently, the sisters were quizzed on how they would behave if they had to deal with visitors, and everyone was in on it - Suzanne herself, Mrs. Moir, and even Mary the maid.  _

_ “I hardly know what is expected of me now,” Suzanne had joked afterwards. “For children of such young ages, their manners are practically perfect.”  _

 

The sisters had different motives for their interest in the etiquette lessons. Jordan, for all her well-rounded personality, was slowly falling under the influence of her older friends, and focused on learning how to behave because of her potential married future. She wanted to be liked, even at fourteen. Tessa herself tried to do her best in the context of how the new knowledge of conversation and deportment and mannerism could help her become a countess. She didn’t want to be liked as much as she liked to be useful. Even after Suzanne had married and had to leave Ilderton to live her own life, Tessa did all she could to remember the advice their tutor gave. She was polite and engaging with the guests that came to visit. She always said hello, thank you, and please to everyone, especially the staff. She could be trusted to watch the cook’s pastries in the oven when the woman was busy with the main course. She once marched into her father’s study and said, “Mr. Rivers needs medicine, Papa, and I would like you to give me some so I can bring it to him.”

Mr. Rivers was the elderly gardener that worked at the estate ever since James was young. Tessa, on one of her walks, noticed the poor old man’s uncontrollable cough, and, no matter how he protested, she made up her mind to intercede for him. Her father had looked at his younger daughter, marveling at how  _ mature  _ the little girl was all of a sudden, and relented. Tessa brought Mr. Rivers the medicine, and the old man cried from gratitude. 

 

Yes, little Tessa Virtue, ‘the sunshine of Ilderton,’ as everyone close to the Virtues called her, had her seven- (and eight- and nine- and ten-) year-old heart set on one goal: making sure that her home and everyone living there was thriving. It was a peculiar aspiration for a child, but then again, Tessa was always keeping the adults near her on their toes.

She didn’t want the following: suitors, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over suitors, marriage as a general idea, leaving Ilderton.

She wanted: to stop being shy and sometimes forgetting what to say in front of everyone, to improve her sketching of the season’s fashions (her one nod to ‘girly’ interests), and to always remain friends with Scott Moir. 

 

“Do  _ you  _ want a suitor?” Scott asked her one day. They had been lounging under the oak tree that Tessa had tried to climb earlier. Even for October, the sun was hot, and the children were grateful for the cool shade. 

Tessa looked at him and burst out laughing. “Oh  _ Scott!  _ I’m not a silly goose, am I? Why would I want a suitor, when I have a friend like you? Come to think of it, I think marriage is perfectly dull. You sit around in the parlor and the drawing room all day with official and boring ladies, drink tea, and talk about the society. What a  _ chore _ ,” she giggled, shaking her head.

Scott smirked, a curious contrast to his wide-eyed boyish face. “You’re quite the rebel. I feel like Jordan wants to get married more than anything in the world. And you’re nothing like her.” 

Tessa thought about it for a moment. “No, I’m not,” she agreed, playing with a stray red leaf that fell onto the grass. “I mean, I wouldn’t call Jo boy-crazy. She just really wants to be an adult, and I don’t know if I want the same. Adulthood just sounds so boring. But I wish I could be the next Countess of Ilderton. Jo doesn’t care about it very much anymore, even though she’s the older of us.”

“You would make a great countess,” Scott said, all sincerity. “You are smart, kind, and people like you. Not that Jordan isn’t any of those things -” he hastened to clarify. “But I think that whoever is in charge should like what he or she is doing. Your father is good to us all too, but he’s just so…” 

Here, Scott faltered. His cheeks colored, and he shuffled the sole of his foot against the grass.

“Distant?” Tessa offered, with a sigh.

“I was going to say strict, but I think you are correct when you say he’s distant.”

Tessa faltered, in her turn, but said what had been bothering her for a while. “I don’t think my parents - well, my Papa, mostly -  like it very much that I spend so much time with you. Well, they like you, they like your family and you are our friends, one way or another. I mean, to me you’re a great friend, and I don’t agree with them whatsoever. I just feel that they want me to spend more time with people from my...from...from our circle,” she tried to explain. 

Scott nodded, as if he expected her to say as much. But didn’t say anything in response. 

“Scott,” she persuaded him fervently, “believe me. You’re my best friend. I have a sister, but it’s just different. Nowadays with her, it’s only talking about dresses and dancing lessons and whatnot. You’re so much more...fun.” At that, Scott’s face broke into a wide, happy smile.

“I believe you, Tess. I believe you because I think the same of you. You’ve been a great friend, and I don’t see that changing, ever. As much as I love those two rascals I have for brothers,” he laughed. 

Tessa laughed along, relieved to hear the words.

“Shake on it?” She held out her palm towards him, and he grasped it. But they did it hastily, and so her little finger ended up tucked in between his index and third. The children giggled and reshook, this time correctly.

“Friends?”

“Friends.”

_ Scott. Friendship. Contentment. Home. _

It was all the same to Tessa, and she hoped it would never change.

  
Poor child! Little did she know that the next year, a great outside force would change the way everything functioned, including Ilderton...   



	5. War!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who's interested in this fic, I apologize for leaving it hanging for 2 and a half months. I have the cliche excuse of a hard semester in grad school and my graduation project, but I'd never abandon this, since I love it too much. I just wish I had more time rn. Anyway, enjoy, and I'll do my best to be more or less consistent with updates <3

_January 1914_  


1914 swept in like any other year, with merry celebrations of Christmas and New Year. Jordan was on her best behavior, to show her gratitude for her brand-new evening dress. Over the past year, she had been given permission to attend a few children’s ‘soirées’ at the suggestion of their governess, who pointed out that her future  _ début  _ would require her to already be used to socializing. Tessa, who was still far away from walking the line between ‘adolescent’ and ‘adult,’ had her own activities. Scott told her that he discovered a new game for them to play, and that wintertime was the best season to do it. But, as their schoolwork and other childhood duties grew more challenging, they both could only hope for an odd two hours to spend together. 

On New Years Day of 1914, the entire family had gathered into the parlor for their traditional annual photograph. Tessa was fidgety. For two whole days, January 1st and 2nd, she and Jordan were given free time from their lessons and allowed to play the whole day. She already promised Scott that she’d be outside with him, sledding and building snowmen until dinnertime. Instead, she was in her best (but most uncomfortable) special occasion dress, waiting for the photographer to arrive. 

Soon enough, several men showed up and began carrying in various pieces of equipment. The rather large and bulky camera that was being set up said  _ Kolz Photography and Portraiture  _ in large, ornate letters. Greg Kolz himself entered right away, and, after saying the appropriate greetings, began tinkering with his instrument. In spite of Tessa and Scott’s reluctance to keep wasting time with this ceremonious activity, they looked on with interest from their waiting spot on the couch. (Charlie, Danny, and Scott had begged their parents to let them watch the set-up, and Joe and Alma were so preoccupied with preparing the parlor and the subjects of the photograph that they gave in). 

Finally, Greg straightened up. “It’s all just about ready,” he announced. “But I’d like to make a test image or two, just to see if the lenses work well.” His gaze strayed and then fell onto Tessa and Scott, still quiet on the couch. “Would you mind me taking this young lady and gentleman as subjects?” 

Kate looked at Alma, and the women smiled. So did the fathers. “Be our guest, Mr. Kolz.”

Greg beamed and clapped his hands. “Wonderful. Children, you can sit however you’re comfortable. On the count of three, I will release the picture.”

Tessa sat up straight, and she saw, from the corner of her eye, that Scott copied her. A sense of importance - if not  _ maturity  _ \- filled her. She had never, ever taken a photograph without adults. Greg took his place behind the camera and raised a finger. 

“Ready? One. Two...three!” A loud clap-snapping sound, and it was done. Scott grinned, and Tessa had to smile at his delight. 

“Oh, that was fun! Can we please take another one? Please?” He was all eagerness.

“Scott, Mr. Kolz shouldn’t wear his camera out,” Joe said, chiding his son a bit, but Greg shook his head, smiling. 

“I rarely have such eager subjects. And what do you say, young lady? Do you want another picture?”

Tessa blushed, unaccustomed to being treated so deferentially. “Yes, please,” she said. 

Greg asked them to stand up for the second one, and they complied. 

Tessa was smiling, anticipating the release of the shutter again, and then - 

She felt how Scott’s arms went around her, and she went along, linking her arms with his. Well, then. At least he wasn’t about to show bunny ears behind her head, as she thought he would.

 

 

Finally, the whole Virtue family gathered to take their planned photograph. The Moirs were getting ready to retreat, when Kate asked, “Joe? Alma? Aren’t you going to be in the picture?”

Their housekeeper and butler hesitated. “We aren’t sure that it would be fitting,” Alma began to explain, but James stopped her.

“Oh, Mrs. Moir. When was it not fitting? You’re just the same part of Ilderton as we are. Your family and ours have always been friends. Do join us. Christmas is a celebration for everyone, after all,” he smiled, seeing how Charlie, Danny, and Scott’s faces lit up at once.

 

The photographing done, the Virtues settled for an informal lunch and afterwards, Tessa couldn’t be more impatient to finally go outside. She made a dash to her room, pulled on a pair of thick wool stockings, her fox fur-trimmed winter coat and hat, and made sure to take her warmest mittens. She was jittery with the pleasant anticipation of finally spending her time at fun activities. On her way down the hallway, she caught up with one of the maids.  

“Say, where are mine and Jordan’s ice skates?” 

“Why, in the storage room,” the girl replied. “Should I fetch them?”

“Yes. Actually, please bring them to the front door, I need to put my boots on and wait for Jordan to get ready too.”

Jordan arrived, similarly bundled up against the cold. The sisters helped each other lace up their boots, gathered their skates, and set out. Scott and his brothers were already waiting for them by the frozen pond, wearing matching excited grins. 

“Remember not to slip and fall, children!” Mrs. Moir called out of the front entrance. “Be very careful!”

“We will!” they all chorused. 

When Tessa and Jordan approached the Moirs, they noticed oddly shaped sticks in their hands.  

“What’re those for?” Jordan asked Charlie. He smiled mysteriously, and nudged Danny. The boys looked quite proud of having a secret that the girls did not discover yet.

“Don’t say that this is some stupid game that’s  _ only for boys _ ,” Tessa warned, addressing Scott most of all, though it wasn’t his habit to segregate games this way. “I certainly won’t sit on the side watching you have fun.” 

“No, that’s why we have enough sticks for each of us. These are called…” Scott grinned and held a suspenseful pause.

“Well?” Tessa would have stomped her foot, if it weren’t for the ice under her. She was getting cold, and wanted to move around already.

“...Hockey sticks!” Scott finished excitedly. Tessa glanced at Jordan…and both sisters burst out laughing in perfect unison.

Tessa was laughing so hard that she had to lean towards Scott and grasp him, in order not to fall. “ _ Hucky?!  _ What a strange word!” 

“ _ Hockey _ ,” Scott corrected patiently, as the Virtue sisters tried to compose themselves, and the older Moirs rolled their eyes. “ _ H-o-c-k-e-y _ . It’s a game, a sport. And it’s played on the ice with sticks and a thingy called a puck,” he indicated the small black object, round but flattened. To demonstrate, he used the flat end of his stick to nudge the puck. It glided several centimeters down the ice.

“And how...how do you play it?” Jordan all but got her giggling in check. 

Danny and Charlie jumped in to explain, all excitement: “We have to divide into teams…” “A few players try to score goals and the others guard...” “But wait -”

The brothers suddenly fell quiet. They looked confused. 

“Something wrong?” Tessa pressed them, worriedly. Why did they hesitate? 

Scott spoke up first, dubiously. “There should be two teams, but there’s five of us,” he said. They all fell silent as they pondered a solution to the unequal number of contestants. 

In the end, the group settled for Charlie and Danny in each of the goals, and Scott on his own against Tessa and Jordan. The game quickly escalated into a heated competition, with quick zips across the ice, shouts of encouragement from the goalkeepers to the players, and laughter galore. 

After some time, Tessa found herself clinched in contest for the puck with Scott’s stick. He tried to take it from her; she returned the effort. Even Jordan moved away a bit from them, as their duel to get to the opposite goal went on. And then, Tessa managed to get the puck and raced forward in triumph, but - 

Her stick skidded on the ice, unexpectedly, making her lose balance, and she felt her right leg slide sharply under her, at a painful angle. The shock of the pain made her drop down, forgetting all about the game. She sensed, with a wave of terror, that it so immobilized her that she could not get up at all. She, who was as good a skater as any of them! A flood of tears choked her breath up, but she forced it down.

“Scott!” The cry for help came out as a pitiful squeak. Scott needed no instruction as he too let his stick fall carelessly and swooped towards her. Jordan, Charlie, and Danny were hovering around, saying something, but it was as if the pain stopped Tessa’s ears up like cotton. She was only aware of her awful predicament. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charlie and Danny take off at breakneck speed, shouting for their father.

“Scott, my leg…” she trembled, from the pain and the cold. “My ankle...it hurts so much…” 

Scott knelt onto the ice beside her, and his gloved hands squeezed her own. Sharp needles seemed to be digging into the flesh of her ankle, and she wanted nothing more than to be inside, to lie down in her bed. 

Dimly, Tessa registered being picked up and carried by much stronger arms of a taller person; someone was saying, “In here, Joe...put her on the bed...Alma, send for the doctor, please…” Someone was quickly undoing her coat and pulling off her boots; she groaned in discomfort at the right one’s removal. And finally, she was falling into a bottomless well of confusion, dizziness, and more pain, until she didn’t remember anything.

 

The doctor had said that she only sprained her ankle.

“Thank God nothing worse,” Kate had said to that, tearfully stroking her younger daughter’s head.

Tessa was stunned.  _ Thank God?  _ Was she supposed to be  _ grateful  _ for several weeks of bed rest, and then being stuck in the house? And yet, her first thoughts upon regaining conscience weren’t of the bandage around her ankle. They were about Scott and his brothers. Surely they won’t get into trouble - after all, they were the ones to initiate hockey playing…

In fearful anticipation, she waited for Scott to visit her and tell her the outcome of their unsuccessful game. As much as her leg still hurt, her heart hurt worse without Scott, without his smiles and jokes. Jordan was very sympathetic and full of care towards her, but Tessa saw that her older sister wasn’t patient enough to sit for long hours near her bed (and later, couch). Inevitably, there would be Meryl Davis coming to call Jordan to spend time with her and the older girls, and Tessa’s sister couldn’t resist every time. Tessa didn’t blame her, though. Oh, to be freely outside in the crisp winter weather, with Scott and his brothers, but especially with Scott…

A week into her forced convalescence, Tessa found herself nodding off while attempting to read  _ Le petit prince  _ in original French -  at her teacher’s suggestion. She didn’t hear the quiet knock on her door, nor the slow creak as it opened.

“Tess?”

That made her eyelids fly open. She gasped and sat up sharply, when she realized who it was. Scott walked hesitantly into her room, but his face was bright with a smile, friendly as ever, if somewhat anxious. He held a plate of something in one hand, and a small drawstring bag in the other. Quickly, Tessa scrambled out of the way, so he would sit by her on the couch. 

“Go on, it’s all right to sit by me,” she smiled, patting the cushion next to her. “Just, please, move the footstool nearer - I want to rest my leg.”

Scott followed her request, setting his objects onto the coffee table. Then, he settled himself and looked at her. “How are you?”

“I’m better,” Tessa assured him, and found that she was truly feeling much lighter and less in pain than before. It was either the time that passed since her injury, or the fact that Scott was with her again - she privately figured that it was the second thing. Sure enough, Scott’s smile bloomed into a full grin.

“I’m so glad,” he told her earnestly, but his relief slipped into guilt. “I feel bad, though. It was I that got the stupid hockey idea. If we didn’t play, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt,” he said, looking down forlornly. That made her shake her head furiously.

“No, no, Scott...it wasn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong, and neither did Charlie or Danny. I was the clumsy one, I tripped and fell. Not your fault that I need to brush up on my skating,” she said, trying to straighten his remorse with humor. 

A small smile did reappear on Scott’s face, but he sighed. “I was actually too nervous to come visit you,” he admitted. “I thought that you were angry with me, it being my idea and all.”

“Scott…” Tessa looked at him reproachfully. “I told you already that there’s no way I can be angry, not in this situation. You’re my friend, and I know you’d never harm me on purpose.”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” he hastened to say. “You know I wouldn’t, T.”

The new nickname made her smile. “T?” 

“Yes,” Scott said, eyes twinkling playfully. “And I actually brought you something for tea, T,” he indicated the dish that he carried in. Tessa finally took a better look, and was surprised to see what he brought.

“Cream puffs! But how did you get them?”

Scott looked mysterious. “I have my methods…” Tessa poked him teasingly.

“It was nothing,” he admitted, “I just went to the kitchen and asked Mrs. Morsel. She said, ‘Cream puffs before supper, young troublemaker?’” He imitated their plump cook’s voice. “And I said, no, they’re for Lady Tessa. That changed her mind pretty quick, of course.” 

“Thank you,” Tessa said, genuinely touched that he picked her favorite treats up especially for her. 

She wasted no time in ringing for tea. “Now, scoot over, and we will have a proper tea time,” she invited, to which Scott readily agreed. Mrs. Moir brought them the tea, surprisingly, and her twinkling eyes told Tessa that their secret indulgence would be kept confidential.

As they munched on the cream puffs and sipped their tea, their conversation flowed so smoothly that Tessa hardly remembered to ask Scott about the drawstring pouch that he brought, still sitting on the table. 

“Oh, and what’s there? More cream puffs? Or ice cream?” she teased. Scott shook his head, smirking a little.

“Open it and see.”

Tessa pulled apart the fabric tie, and reached inside the pouch to reveal a small wooden figurine, carved to look like a bird. 

“That’s pretty,” she smiled, turning the object around in her hand. Scott sidled up closer, reaching to take the figurine and pointing out the small carved-out holes. 

“It’s a whistle, actually. It’s a sparrow that can sing when you whistle in it. I made it for you so I could hear you anywhere, anytime, since you can’t walk by yourself yet,” he explained. 

Tessa lifted it to her lips and blew. It made a muted  _ whoo  _ sound, causing her to giggle.

“This looks like a sparrow, but sounds more like an owl.”  _ Whoo. Whoo. _

Scott sighed in pretend disappointment. “Yeah, I got my birds mixed up there,” he joked.

Tessa laid the whistle on the table and turned to him. “Thank you so much. I’m so happy that you came to see me,” she said. Surprisingly, Scott’s usually confident demeanor tinged with a bit of red.

“It’s...oh, it’s nothing, Tess. We’re friends, aren’t we?” His eyes looked so warm and so happy that she couldn’t help but grin yet again. And, just like that, she acted on impulse, without really knowing why: she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his cheek. 

It was over before Tessa was even aware of it, and Scott’s cheeks reddened even more when she pulled back. She felt the heat radiate off her own face. 

“Scott, I-”

“No, no, that’s fine,” he exhaled, still looking a trifle flustered. Fidgeted on the couch next to her, but she snuck a glance at his expression and was almost sure that she caught a smile.

She didn’t know how to explain the spontaneous kiss on the cheek, but Scott seemed to be just as eager to brush it off and not increase the slight awkwardness. That translated into him quickly saying goodbye and leaving, though his manner was as friendly and relaxed as ever.

Tessa sat back against the couch, feeling no pain in her leg, whatsoever. A smile lifted the corners of her own lips, and she took Scott’s whistle again.

_ Whoo. Whoo. _

 

_ June 28, 1914 _

“Who shot the Archduke, do they say?”

The question floated across the veranda along with cigar smoke. The adults sat having a late lunch and discussing the recent news. Tessa and Scott played cards nearby. Jordan, as always, was ‘out’ (at the neighboring estate). 

“Some student from Serbia, Gavrilo Printsip. A revolutionary and anarchist. Well, this is a war declaration in and of itself, except the entire world must now suffer the consequences of one idiot boy’s actions. But it’s common knowledge that this all was years into the making, it just needed a push, and there it is, at last.”

“So Britain will enter on Serbia’s side?”

“Serbia and Russia and France, it seems. If we go, it’s under the Earl of Asquith’s command…”

Scott, Tessa noticed, was all in their game, but she did lend an ear to what seemed like a serious conversation. What was said did not faze her too much,, even if her parents and Scott’s seemed extremely involved. It was summer, the best season in the year, and she was eleven years old, and therefore could not waste time thinking about Serbian students who shot archdukes, even if those archdukes were Austrian. The word ‘war’ sounded more like the name of some comical exaggerated villain from a fairytale - not threatening at all. 

If Scott had any thoughts about the archduke and the war, he did not share them. As for Jordan, nothing interested her outside of her socializing with friends, so Tessa was left to her own devices when it came to keeping up with current news. 

 

_ August 5, 1914 _

Tessa had never seen her father in a military uniform. He looked very stately and imposing. So did Scott’s father. Scott, it seemed, forgot all about his usually cheerful nature and was unusually subdued. He hadn’t called Tessa to play since yesterday, when they found out that Britain has entered the war, and, therefore, both of their fathers had to depart, as officers of the army.

James and Joe left Ilderton with great pomp. All of their families and the estate servants came outside to watch their carriage leave. Some unknown sense of dread squeezed Tessa’s heart, and she glanced over at Scott. His head was down, his hands in his pockets.

Tessa reached a timid arm to lay on his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she tried. “They will come back safely.” The only answer she got was a sniff, then another, hastily muffled, and a kick of his toe at a pebble on the gravel path.

Beside them, Kate and Alma were crying openly, ignoring the servants. Sadness was a common emotion in their home that day, however, and no one could blame someone else for showing it. 

After, everyone dispersed to go about their business, and Scott trudged over to the nearest bench. Tessa sat next to him, still not trusting herself to speak. And what would she say, anyway?

Scott stared straight ahead for a long moment. “I don’t want my Pa to die,” he whispered. Her friend, the always brave and fearless Scott, for whom no tree or hill stood unclimbed and no corner of Ilderton unexplored, looked as afraid as a tiny mouse in front of an angry cat.

Suddenly, a voice. “Lady Tessa, come to dinner, please!” That was one of the maids.

“Scotty, go to the cottage with Danny and Charlie, I’ll be there soon.” Mrs. Moir was calling, too. Those two voices sounded as if they were far, far away.

Tessa closed her eyes. Her favorite summer was still in season, but now a strange overtone of autumn was nearing, creeping up on Ilderton and everything she knew until then. And why was her face wet? She looked up and saw no rain, only sunshine, until she realized that at last, she was crying too. Tessa didn’t want either of their fathers to die just as much as Scott didn’t, but she knew that she was helpless, even as her eyelids closed tighter.

Her arms found their way around Scott, and they sat for a bit more, trying to compose themselves. Then, stood up and didn’t break their hug until both turned their opposite directions home. 


	6. Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Since November 11 was the 100th anniversary of the armistice of WWI, I thought it would be cool to post another chapter (even though this fic has little to do with the war directly). Also, thank you all SO much for your support and for sticking with this one <3

_ May 17, 1915  _

It started with a short letter. Unemotional, clinical words on paper. 

 

_ Katherine, Lady Virtue - Ilderton Hall, Surrey  _ said the front of the coarse envelope. 

 

_ Dear Madam: _

 

_ As per your recent inquiry, the results of our intelligence are as follows.  _

 

_ Status of Colonel James Virtue: Missing. Presumed dead. _

 

_ Sincerely.. _ . 

A name that Tessa did not know.

 

Tessa shouldn’t have seen the letter first, obviously, since it was meant for her mother. But was it really her fault that Mama had dropped the letter out of its envelope under the table in her, Tessa’s, room? Really, Mama should have been thankful it was her room and not somewhere where a curious servant might find it. One way or the other, Tessa herself was just as curious, stumbling upon it by accident, once all her birthday celebrations were over and she was getting ready for bed.

It was like thunder, such a shock that her breath was knocked out of her lungs.

_ Papa is missing.  _ That was the first jolt. 

_ Papa might be dead.  _ That was the second. 

The third jolt, almost swaying the ground under her, echoing painfully:  _ Papa was killed.  _

 

_ Does that mean I’m the countess now?  _

_ I don’t want to be the countess. Not if Papa is dead. And I’m only thirteen. I hate this. I hate the stupid war. I hate it. I wish I dreamed about it, but it’s real. And I hate it.  _

_ I have to tell Scott -  _

_ Scott. _

_ His father went to war too. _

_ What if...what if Mr. Moir is also…No, not Mr. Moir. Not Scott’s beloved Pa.  _

_ The war. The stupid war. _

_ I want to wake up and have the war gone. _

 

_ Hours earlier _

“Blow out the candles, Tess! But make a wish first!” Scott, veritably bouncing with excitement, was urging her on. He held up a party cracker, ready to pull it apart.

This thirteenth birthday was so much different than all the previous ones. War brought with it strict rationing, especially of food, so it affected the most awaited birthday part: the cake. Tessa remembered the sumptuous creations of cream and icing and marzipan and layers of melt-in-the-mouth sweetness, courtesy of their cook. Now, ‘birthday cake’ was a modest, undecorated raisin cake, no eggs or butter in it. Tessa remembered how she was upset learning that there wouldn’t be any real cake served. In reply, she got the standard, by now, speech from her mother that she had to understand how everything was different at present, and that she should learn to make sacrifices, just like the soldiers on the battlefield, who not only didn’t get to eat cake, but had to be in the most difficult of surroundings. From the conversation, Tessa understood that giving up cake had to be an act of duty.

Just like the dresses that she wore now. Jordan shrugged when Kate said that she would mend her own dresses to fit her, and that Tessa, in turn, would wear hand-me-downs from Jordan. There wasn’t anything embarrassing in that, though - most of Tessa’s friends did the same.

Here she was, thirteen, standing before her bland birthday cake in her twice-turned dress, making a wish. For the war to be over and for everything to be well. But secretly, she wished for this period of shared clothes and unappetizing food to be over, because one rarely wishes for purely selfless things at thirteen. The Sunshine of Ilderton, as she was now often called, wasn’t pampered. She just didn’t like war, that feeling of being pushed out of her comfort zone. 

 

So that evening, she realized, finally and fully, that war was so much worse than old clothes and rationed food. 

No, in her heart of hearts, Tessa couldn’t confess to adoring her father. It was to their ‘sweet’ mother that the Virtue girls flocked like ducklings, with every childish confession or happiness or concern. From their father, they accepted everything calmly and with dignity, like a fifty pence for an allowance to spend at the summer fair. Still, his presence in her life meant stability, a kind of safe constant that would never change for the worse. 

And, of course, there had been that will.

 

_ Last year _

_ James was somber, and Tessa picked up on it immediately upon her arrival into his office. For an unsettling, ridiculous second, she feared he was about to say that someone already died, even though he and Mr. Moir were leaving tomorrow.  _

_ “Tessa, child,” he began, as soon as she perched on the edge of a plush armchair. “There is something important I want to show you.” _

_ Hold up. It didn’t feel right. “Why me? Why not Jordan?” she found herself asking. Not to mention Mama, she added in her mind.  _

_ Her father, who was already opening a drawer in his heavy wooden desk, stilled. He gave Tessa a puzzled look, that didn’t take away from it’s overall seriousness. “This has to do with you as the heiress of the estate,” he explained matter-of-factly, as if his younger daughter was twenty and not twelve. “Jordan won’t be angry with me.” _

_ Tessa pushed the armchair away from the desk, ignoring her father. “No, but it’s unfair to her for me to know something important, that she won’t have any idea of. She’s my sister, and I won’t have any secrets from her.” She paused, but then added, defiantly, “And she is the other heiress.” _

_ James looked at her, a stack of papers in hand. He liked to look at her like that now, with an odd sort of reflexive respect with which he usually regarded far older people. Tessa saw his shoulders drop with a sigh. “Let her come here, then.”  _

 

_ “This means, then, that one of us  _ has  _ to stay here in Ilderton after marriage?” _

_ Jordan was indignant. She’d want to travel as she got older, as much as it was possible, as she made perfectly clear. Already her fifteen year-old sister flourished at parties, and she wasn’t even a debutante yet. No, the quaint and old-fashioned Ilderton wouldn’t let her free spirit unwrap fully, Tessa mused.  _

_ Their father regarded them carefully. “Well, it would be for the best, but it’s not as though I’d force either of you. If, for example, one of you marries someone who’d prefer for you to live in his home, you would have to negotiate that.” _

_ Tessa and Jordan exchanged a look. That was much to digest, considering their ages. Not even Jordan had really given much thought to marriage, never mind Tessa, who was by all regards a child.  _

_ “But we’ll  _ have  _ to be married to inherit?” she found herself inquiring. Her father shook his head reassuringly.  _

_ “No, no. You would only have to reach eighteen. Your mother will be the de facto heiress until you, Jordan, or you, Tessa, turn eighteen, but if any of you are faced with a marital situation like I just described, it all falls to choosing. I want,” he concluded, looking at the sisters intently, “for you to  _ want  _ to stay here, and not feel  _ forced  _ to do so.”  _

_ “But Papa,” Jordan began again, as soon as he finished, “your will says that, if I remember, Ilderton will be the direct property of…” She blushed, and fidgeted uncomfortably. “ ‘Heirs male,’ ” she quoted, and her unease passed to Tessa. She, again, was reminded that they were a last resort. Neither their father nor certainly their mother were ever cold with them, but the sisters always had the sense of more expectations pressed on them. Because they were girls. _

_ James himself looked almost...embarrassed. “Well...yes. It does say that. But the thing  _ is—”  _ He paused. Coughed. “We - you know, your mother and I...are not that young anymore. We love both our daughters, no matter what,” he said firmly. “One of our good, smart,  _ worthy  _ daughters will be a wonderful countess one day.”  _

_ With great surprise, Tessa registered the catch in her father’s voice. She opened her mouth to ask how that would be possible — _

_ “There is a clause next to that. If, by the time the eldest daughter turns eighteen we do not have a son, either one of our daughters that does not relocate due to marriage will inherit the estate. Assuming, of course, that I am incapable of managing anymore.”  _

_ Jordan frowned, and a chill ran down Tessa’s back. “Papa, don’t say that. You won’t die.” _

_ “Jordan, this is war. Anyone can get —” _

_ “Papa!” Tessa sprang up from her seat, tears prickling at her eyes. “It’s all right, we understand. Everything will be well. Don’t worry about the estate. We will be fine, and we will take care of Mama, and you will return safely.”  _

_ Jordan, too, stood up and waited in turn to hug their father. He wasn’t a particularly physically affectionate man, even with those he loved. In the face of the threat of war, though, everything was different. When Tessa didn’t let go, she put her arms around both, and they stood still. _

_ “My girls,” he said softly. “My children…You are my only hope, you know that? Both of you.” _

 

_ May 18, 1915 _

Tessa was ready to march right up to their mother and ask her about the letter. It was so unlike Mama to just be careless about such an important message, she reasoned to herself. But that day was full of lessons and other important activities, and the ominous letter was unintentionally forgotten. After her tutors left, she sighed, looking at the pile of books and notebooks on her desk. She might as well get started on her homework, if she wanted it done, but then she remembered that Scott would probably wait for her before starting _his_ homework. They often gathered together in the Moirs’ cozy living room around the big table and did their lessons together. If they ended up with more work than usual, the ever-caring Mrs. Moir would make them a little something to eat. Mr. Moir would be there, with his evening newspaper if he finished work at the estate early. Charlie and Danny would be outside, chopping some kindling for the fireplace, or repairing the fence, the _knock-knock-knock_ of their hammers or _thwap-thwap-thwap_ of their hatchets providing a surprisingly nice white noise. 

Except, when Tessa entered the cottage, the glaring differences, yet again, sprang out at her. There was no newspaper-reading, pipe-smoking Mr. Moir. Charlie and Danny had left to one of their farmer acquaintances to help with some roof repairs. The yard seemed lonely without their chatter and joking to each other.

The starkest difference was Scott’s lack of laughter - lack of even smiling, really. “Come on in, Tutu,” he said, invitingly, but somehow absently. He then proceeded to pull out a chair to sit, open his mathematics textbook and notebook, take a pen, and get to work, without another word. 

Tessa blinked. She was seeing such zeal for learning in him for the first time. There was always less attentive studying and more horseplay and fidgeting from the energetic Scott. Now, it was like he changed his personality overnight and suddenly decided to become an exemplary student. 

They worked in silence alongside for a while, with Tessa suspecting nothing out of the ordinary, but the silence was unsettling and heavy. 

“I need advice,” she tried to get his attention, “would you use  _ sad  _ or  _ dejected  _ in this sentence?”

Her glance over at her friend turned out a complete astonishment. For one, his textbook was opened upside down. Then, she watched in shock as a small tear trickled out of his eye and landed on his writing - aimless doodling, actually - with a tiny  _ plop.  _ One moment, Tessa just stared at it, watching the lines of ink get watery. 

“Oh, Scott,” she whispered. “Why are you crying? What happened?” 

Her first answer was a sniff, and another drop of a tear. “My Pa…” he choked, trying to compose himself, “I think he’s - he’s dead. I know it’s bad to snoop on your parents, but I - I noticed Ma reading something, and then she looked so sad and I heard her crying, but she never said anything, and when I saw what she had read, it was actually —”

“A letter,”  Tessa finished, her insides going cold with fear. “So did Mama. I saw the letter to her too, saying that Papa was ‘missing, presumed…’” Tears squeezed her own throat. “ _ Dead _ ,” she finished with a whisper, still not bearing the possibility of it being the truth. And before she could say anything else, Scott’s arms flung around her, and he was crying, and so was she, and both of them suddenly had the sharp realization that they could only share their mourning with each other. 

 

Tessa couldn’t explain what force made her compose herself and do her best to calm Scott. He made some noise about being embarrassed to make her see him cry, but she told him it was all right.

It wasn’t all right, and by the looks of it, it never would be. Tessa made the most important decision of her life thus far: she marched straight to her mother’s room after leaving Scott’s home.

Kate was sitting with her back to the door, and Tessa cleared her throat. Her mother turned around. She was so  _ calm.  _ Her husband and Tessa and Jordan’s father was dead, and she was calm. 

“What is it, Tessie?” she questioned gently. Tessa crossed her arms on her chest. 

“Mama, I know all about the letter. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t Mrs. Moir tell Scott? And don’t say you didn’t know. I want to know why you keep it a secret from us.” The sharp, bitter short sentences spilled out of Tessa’s mouth like accusations. 

Kate stared, bewildered. “ _ What  _ letter?” That almost made Tessa roll her eyes in disbelief. Why was her mother doing this to her? 

“ _ This  _ one!” she snapped finally, pulling the envelope out of her school bag. Blinking in confusion ( _ was she pretending?!  _ Tessa’s mind fumed), Kate reached for it, and her fingers touched it —”

_ Knock knock.  _ “Pardon me, milady. An urgent letter for you. From the front.”

Kate gasped, glanced at Tessa, then at the footman, and took  _ his  _ letter and  _ dropped  _ the one that Tessa was handing her to the side. She tore open the envelope, when the door shut behind the footman, and pulled the letter out, Tessa watching her mutely. Her mother’s eyes ran over it - and she gasped and burst out crying. 

  
  



	7. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! It's been 84 ye...khm, one and a half months!
> 
> The good news: those that still follow this get an almost 8K word chap for their troubles <3  
> I've finished another grad school semester, and I'll for sure now be more consistent with the updates.  
> I did my best with this much-drafted and poorly-edited update, which I sincerely hope everyone will enjoy, as there's lots of stuff here...but also...
> 
> The bad news: Angst at the end. And not just any angst, but necessary angst, because since it's a DA AU, I had to insert some parts from the canon. Therefore, Kate's alter ego experiences something Cora Crawley unfortunately did, aka "her Ladyship's soap" from one of the early Season 1 episodes. I truly hope I handled the subject appropriately, and if I was wrong anywhere, please tell me if you feel inclined to. P.S. If you have stuff to throw at the end, please don't throw it too hard - it won't always be like this *sobs* I promise!!
> 
> Warnings: mentions of stillbirth

Tessa was in shock, she stood rooted to the spot as her mother quickly read the letter with teary eyes, paper trembling in her fingers. Of course, what was she to take it for if not tragedy?

_ This is it. The end. The end of EVERYTHING. _

“Mama?” Tessa spoke finally and her voice trembled as if she hadn’t used it for days. “Mama, w-what...what happened? Is it - is it Papa? He’s d-dead?” The last word came out almost incoherent, as she choked on a sob.

“No!” her mother exclaimed, hastily dashing the tears out of her eyes. “Oh, Tessie, sweetie, no...he’s fine...and...and so is Scott’s father...look!” Tessa took the letter with disobedient fingers, trying hard to overcome her shock and focus on the words.

 

_ Dear Kate, _

 

_ You must have gotten the letter from General Asquith. I hope you will forgive me for it, as they were searching for us for quite a while. _

_ Little time to write, so will be brief. Was injured at Ypres in April, received treatment at the local hospital. Found Moir; he was injured too, mostly recovered. We’re going home on the nearest train. Much to do in Ilderton. Reassure the girls, and please don’t worry.  _

 

_ Jim _

 

Tessa had to read it two times, not even hearing Kate’s soft but relieved crying in the background. The same relief, though, finally did get to her:  _ Papa and Mr. Moir are alive. Papa and Mr. Moir are coming home! _

She looked at her mother, who was hurriedly wiping her eyes, and beaming - the first genuine smile Tessa had seen on her face in months. “Mama...so Papa is alive? He and Mr. Moir are coming back?” A wave of powerful relief swept through her, as Kate nodded. 

“Yes, darling, don’t worry. I promise, they are coming back. Everything will be well, I promise.” And she gathered Tessa into an embrace, full of happy relief herself.

But Tessa pulled away after a while. She still needed to settle the issue of the other letter. The one her mother supposedly knew nothing of.

“Mama,” she began uneasily. “I just want to know...did you keep the other letter a secret because you didn’t want us to worry?” She took the letter that now lay forgotten on the couch and showed her mother. 

Kate’s smile wilted. “Tessa, I don’t understand. I don’t know of any other letters. Can I see?” Tessa waited for her to take the letter that she’d tossed aside in haste, shuffling from foot to foot. Kate took the paper out of the envelope, and looked over it, paling a bit. Her eyes strayed to Tessa’s face.

“I don’t understand. This...where did you get this?”

Tessa frowned again. “You haven’t even known about this letter?”

“I promise you, child, this is the first time I’m seeing it,” Kate persuaded her firmly, though her voice was a bit shaky, as were her hands. “But how did  _ you—” _

“Under my table in our bedroom,” Tessa rushed in to explain. “Yesterday, as I was getting ready for bed, I saw it under my table, and I took it to look at it closer, and yes, I know your name was on it, but I read it anyway, and then I just assumed you lost it, or...or something, and you didn’t tell me or Jordan because you didn’t want to scare us…”

Kate was slowly recovering, glancing from one letter to the other. “It wasn’t me. Tessa, I never dropped it into your room. I never even had it. Someone must have not…” 

Tessa saw with surprise how a low cloud of anger darkened her mother’s kind face. Kate got up abruptly and crossed to the opposite wall of her room, where the calling bells were attached. She pulled the string on the one labeled ‘Mrs. Moir.’

The woman appeared in a minute. 

“Alma,” Kate said, with noticeable nervousness, “who was in charge of yesterday’s correspondence?”

“Boyd, madam,” said Alma, looking at her curiously. (“I thought so,” Kate murmured, closing her eyes in frustration). Alma looked from Kate to Tessa, each one of them holding a letter. 

“Is something the matter?”

“Well, the most important news I had just gotten is that our husbands are both alive and are coming back home,” Kate announced, and Alma gasped and put her hand to her mouth, astonished. 

_ “What?”  _ she whispered. Tessa imagined that she felt as immovable with the shock as she still was, somewhat. The next thing Tessa realized was that the two women were hugging and, by all appearance, crying together. Her father’s and Mr. Moir’s teasing words echoed in her mind:  _ Now, ladies, there’s enough water in the Thames already. Don’t distress yourselves. _

Tessa shuffled again, and tried to subtly cough, unsure if she was comfortable with witnessing such a display of emotion. Kate and Alma broke their hug and hurried to wipe their eyes. Their smiles remained, though, but Kate’s dimmed slightly.

“As happy as I am, Alma, please call Boyd here if you have the time. I have to settle a very baffling incident. My Tessa says that she discovered a letter under her bedroom table yesterday, and the letter was about my husband being missing. It was dated several months ago. I remember you getting the very same letter about Joe.” 

Alma gasped again, but said nothing, eager to hear the end. 

Kate continued, “I think someone accidentally or deliberately prevented me from seeing my letter. Since you say that Barbara Boyd received all the correspondence, I’m leaning towards the second possibility,” she concluded grimly. 

“The nerve of the girl!” exclaimed Alma, clapping her hands indignantly. “She’s been careless like that ever since her first day here. I won’t be surprised if it’s her fault. I’m bringing her to you immediately.” 

She turned to leave, and then stopped short. Turned back to Kate. “But madam...you’ve said that the Earl  _ and  _ Joe are coming back  _ together _ ?” Tessa saw a mixture of her previous relief and fear fly across her countenance. 

Kate smiled. “I know it must be as much a shock for you as it was for me, but yes. They both are safe and alive, and are on the way home.”

Alma positively glowed with joy at that. Tessa grinned and found herself jumping towards her and throwing her arms around her. 

“Tessa!” Kate pretended to scold, even as she chuckled. “Please do not squeeze the breath out of Mrs. Moir. She has to be healthy and happy for Mr. Moir’s arrival!”

Tessa stepped away from the housekeeper. “Sorry, Mrs. Moir,” she said, blushing a bit.

“That’s quite all right, dear,” Alma said jovially. “Your Ladyship, if you have no other requests, I will go fetch Boyd,” she told Kate. “And I myself must go give my sons the news. I believed I had tragic news to share with them, but now I can share good ones.”

“Let...let me do it,” Tessa spoke up, and Alma looked at her, implicitly not expecting her to offer. “I mean...Scott was quite distressed about...(here she remembered not to reveal that Scott knew about his mother’s letter)...you know, he was afraid and everything. And we’re friends with your sons,” she added, as if making arguments.

“Go ahead, then, child,” Alma said good-naturedly. “Friends can find the best words in sad or joyful situations, can they not?”

“Oh, thank you! But I’ll need the letter. I’m just borrowing it, Mama, don’t worry,” Tessa assured, snatching the letter up. Without further ado, she bounded out of the room, feeling wings of excitement behind her back.

She didn’t hear her and Scott’s mother chuckling.

“They’re friends all right, but I believe Tessa is partial to Scotty,” Alma pointed out, slyly glancing at Kate.

“Childhood friendship is one of the strongest things in the world, if it can last into adulthood.” 

“Ah, but friendship can become something completely different, madam.” 

Kate sighed, agreeing. “They do make a sweet pair. Like a needle and a thread, everywhere together.” 

Alma looked thoughtful, almost worried. “Do you think that your husband will be against such...camaraderie as time goes on? I certainly don’t see them ending their friendship anytime soon. Plus, once Tessa’s out there expecting a marriage match, it may complicate the situation. Though I myself am only supportive of them being friends.”

Kate smiled reassuringly, rising from her seat. “Tessa doesn’t strike me as someone who would seek her father’s approval in matters of the heart. And a bit of friendly interaction never harmed anyone. Your Scott is a delightful boy. I’m glad they are on such good terms.” 

 

Tessa did not hear these comments, as she was running full speed to the Moirs’ cottage. Charlie and Danny were out on errands, and she assumed that Scott would be busy too, but it wasn’t the case. She approached the yard in front of the cottage, and was surprised to see him sitting on the bank, staring out at the gently rippling waters of the pond. 

“Um, hi, Scott,” she stammered. He didn’t react. “Nice afternoon, isn’t it?” she added weakly. 

A sullen grumble. “Who said it was?” Scott picked up a pebble closest to him and chucked it into the water. 

“But it  _ is  _ a lovely afternoon. And I have good news for you,” Tessa insisted, tapping his shoulder carefully. He finally turned to face her and glowered at her.  _ Please let me find the right words _ , she prayed silently. She took the letter out of her skirt pocket and unfolded it to show him. 

“This is a letter my Mama received just now. Papa wrote to her.” Uncertainty and disbelief flitted across Scott’s face, and Tessa cheered mentally.  _ Yes!  _

“And he says,” she carried on, barely containing her excitement, “that he and Mr. Moir made it safe and alive out of the Battle at Ypres in France.”

He looked at her, levelly, without any clear reaction.

“You can’t joke about this, Tessa. I never expected it from you.”

The frost in his tone shocked her. They were friends, and he suspected she would make light of such a serious matter? 

“No,  _ please _ ,” she waved the letter in his face, imploring him to believe her. “Read this. This is true, and even if it wasn’t, I would never in a million years joke about it. You know I love Mr. Moir like he’s my second father - well, my uncle, at least. And I was so sad and scared for you until Mama received this. Go on, read it,” she urged. 

Scott took the letter with visible hesitation, like he expected it to bite him. He read through and - his face showed a glimpse of relief. 

“Are they coming back?” he whispered, glancing from the paper to Tessa, as if he still was half-convinced that it was a twisted prank.

Tessa nodded, gratitude at his understanding taking over her. “They are, Scott. They are!”

A shout of joy escaped Scott’s mouth, and he sprang up from his slouched position and threw his arms around her. They cheered and jumped, hugging, almost dizzy with the happy relief. 

“But how’s that possible, Tess? How?” he kept asking her. He looked quite feverish with the emotion. Tessa pulled him back down by his hands, so she could start over and explain.

“Barbara, one of our maids, was in charge of all the letters yesterday, and the ones we know about, you remember...the sad ones, were delivered to us only because this general was searching for our fathers and assumed...um...the worst.”

Scott nodded with a furrowed brow, not interrupting.

“And then they were found,” Tessa rushed on. “Barbara was careless, and that’s why she delivered the first letter to your mother and misplaced our letter. But just now, we’ve got this new one, and they’re coming home. They are alive and coming home.” 

Scott smiled again, but grew serious. “So that means the war is over?” he asked.

“I don’t know...probably not yet, but Papa writes that there are important things he wants to do back here. I don’t know what exactly, but it doesn’t matter. What does is that they’re coming back.”

Scott beamed at her, squeezing her hands in his. “Thanks, Tess.”

Tessa blinked at him. “What for?” she asked, not expecting his spontaneous gratitude.

“I’ve been  _ hating  _ life recently, ever since I’ve found out that Pa might be...you know.” When she nodded, he carried on. “I didn’t want to do or say anything. I was so sad and life just seemed so hopeless these last few days. I couldn’t imagine how we would be without Pa. And Charlie and Danny didn’t even know, so I…” Scott’s voice faltered. “I as good as lied to them.” 

“Scott, you didn’t. You know it wasn’t a lie. It’s not like they asked you, and you said something else,” Tessa contradicted, trying to rid him of the guilt. She could only begin to imagine what he had gone through, for a few days. Scott and his brothers were always so close to their father, what Tessa was not able to say about herself and Jordan. Even the illusion of losing someone like that filled her with dread. Of course, not that she would have been all right with her own father dying, but she wasn’t about to compare that to what the Moir brothers felt for the kind, wholly paternal Joe. 

Scott carried on. “It all happened so quickly, I had no time to even react, and to determine how I really felt. I was so confused and in such conflict with myself, that I didn’t even think of Charlie or Danny at all. But then again, what could I have said?  _ Hello, brothers, do you know that our father was killed in the war? _ ” He pursed his lips and shook his head grimly. “I wouldn’t know how to say something like that. And I’m so relieved that this has a happy ending.” 

“Oh, and also,” Tessa thought of something else, “don’t be mad at your mother. She did not want to cause you any grief. I’m sure she had a good reason for keeping the other letter a secret.”

“Right. I’m not mad at Ma. I can’t stay mad at such wonderful parents,” Scott smiled, and it prompted Tessa’s own smile. The twinkle went back to his eyes, and that made her the happiest. Her best friend was himself once more.

Just like that, the birds were chirping more cheerfully, the sun was more kindly warm, and the spring that was about to melt into the summer brought on a comfort magnified by their new knowledge that the war spared Ilderton from loss.

 

Tessa did not see Barbara, the maid, again after the incident with the letters, but she had little time to think about that - Ilderton Hall prepared for its master and butler’s return. Finally, the morning of June 2nd she woke up with jittery anticipation. 

“When will that stupid train  _ arrive  _ already?” she groaned, pacing to and fro on the gravel path of the estate’s driveway. 

Jordan looked at her sharply. “Can you stop swinging like a pendulum? They have to take the train from London, so they probably won’t be here for another half hour.” And yet Tessa noticed that her sister was carefully masking her own nervousness. What would her father and Mr. Moir look like, almost a year after their departure for war? Would they be much different? Did they, heaven forbid, have any terrible injuries? Tessa shuddered involuntarily, remembering the frightening images of her textbook’s depictions of the Wars of the Roses, far away in the past, and the knights that were portrayed all bloody, with severed limbs. Well, if her father was well enough to write, it couldn’t have been so very awful. 

She was pulled out of her inner musing by a honking horn and then, one of the littlest kitchen girls came running from around the gates. “They’re coming! Lady Tess, Lady Jo, they’re coming!” 

An automobile slowly rolled into the entrance, as every person in the household waited with trepidation - some excitedly, like Charlie and Danny, who cheered and looked ahead with a mix of anticipation and happiness, some anxiously, like their mothers, who looked on with the expression of the hopeless given their hope back.

The automobile approached the small crowd that had gathered around. No one said anything, in spite of the air of agitation among the people. 

The chauffeur came from around his place, and opened the door. Tessa saw a walking stick swing to the ground, then a leg, and another, their step unsure and cautious. Finally, the person hopped down from the stoop of the automobile, and, with a start, she recognized the aged, frail man as her father. He took a few steps, leaning heavily onto the stick, like he had been re-learning how to walk. They all surveyed him, unsure how to respond to the suddenly awkward tension. 

_ “Jim,”  _ came a gasp from behind, and Tessa and the others watched Kate run out and quite simply throw herself at her husband. “Oh,  _ Jimmy… _ ”

As much as Tessa was still getting herself used to the outward changes on her father, she was more bewildered. Never in her life had she witnessed such explicit affection from her mother to her father. She would not recall any other time that Mama called Papa  _ Jimmy _ , it was always  _ James, dear, my friend  _ (that last one being cool and formal, rather than what its meaning implied). All names that were perfectly civil and appropriate to utter in front of others. Maybe it took only the biggest amount of repressed worry for his life and love for him to get her out of her usual reserved nature.

Jim looked around, took in the hushed people, and slowly, a smile appeared on his face. He embraced Kate when she raised her tearful eyes to his. 

“I’m back.” 

Tessa found herself running towards him, as Jordan followed behind her, to embrace him as well. They did not notice Joe exiting the automobile until they heard a collective cheer of “PA!” that could only have been Scott and his brothers. When Tessa gently squirmed out of her parents’ hug, she saw Joe’s tender embrace of his sons.

“My boys,” he said. “My darling boys.”

Alma was crying softly as she approached. She did not make to hug Joe, and instead stopped to run a trembling hand across the bandage on his head. 

“Poor dear, I’m so glad you’re safely back.” 

“So am I,” was his emotional reply, enfolding his wife in his arms, while the Moir brothers stood back, to let their parents have their moment. 

Jim turned to Tessa and Jordan. “How you grew up,” he observed, looking at them with undisguised pride. “My priceless daughters.” Jordan beamed and squeezed Kate’s hand. 

“I’m so sorry you were hurt, Papa,” Tessa said, and then almost clapped her hand over her mouth: it was somewhat insensitive to blurt out what must have made him sad and uncomfortable. But he gave his younger daughter a comforting smile. 

“That matters little. I might walk around with some assistance at first, but it shouldn’t be too big a problem. Unlike poor Joe,” Jim’s voice dropped and he threw a glance to the side, but the butler was still distracted by his family. “Was concussed, the old sport, and still tried to pull me to safety on his own, can you believe it?” 

Kate gasped, and Jordan exclaimed, “Oh, but that’s so scary!” 

Tessa turned to look at Joe, full of quiet contentment at being reunited with his wife and children. Impulsively, she rushed to him and hugged him too. He chuckled, taken aback a bit, but hugged his youngest mistress all the same. 

“Thank you for my father, Mr. Moir,” Tessa murmured. She could feel Scott’s grin on them. “I’ll never forget you that, just as he won’t.” 

“It was my duty, child, though I do admit I was glad we hadn’t gotten much food beforehand. His Lordship was one of the heavier things I’ve had to carry in my life.” Joe winked, looking interestingly like Scott for a second, whenever he teased or joked. 

As Alma chided, “Joe!” Tessa saw how her father chuckled and mouthed  _ He’s right _ to her. Bewildered, she realized that war did blur boundaries, and that those on different steps of societal rank could share one, as they used to in the past.

 

Her father informed them that he would be remodeling Ilderton for the time being. 

“God knows how long the war will drag on, and the poor boys need a safe place to recover. Our town hospital is as small as ever, and the number of the injured increases daily.”

“So what are you planning?” Kate asked. She had been listening to him closely. Tessa herself looked at him, eager to hear. Even Jordan was composed and serious. 

Jim hesitated, but then visibly took hold of himself, apparently convinced that he won’t be met with resistance. “We should remake Ilderton as a convalescent house, to the best of our ability and resources.” 

A hospital. Simply put, Ilderton Hall would function as s hospital. 

An alarming thought occurred to Tessa. “Does that mean we would have to move out to Cormick House?” she asked, not eager to hear an affirming reply. Cormick House was a large mansion out in London that Jim had bought for Kate as a wedding present. As much as Tessa didn’t really mind living in London, she hardly wanted to leave Ilderton. She also had the vague understanding that this lack of enthusiasm was tied to the fact that she wouldn’t be seeing Scott for a long time. 

“No, moving isn’t necessary. We’d simply use our ballroom, rearrange it, put out some hospital beds and other equipment...Joe, Alma, I’d like to involve the volunteering nurses as well…”

As the Moir couple listened and made notes and traded suggestions with Jim, Tessa fell into thought. The idea of so many ill and injured in her house did not disgust her, but she was frightened all the same. Death luckily wasn’t something she knew much about, but from the threat of it in the past, she wanted to stay as far away from it as possible. At the same time, she wanted to help, not knowing how complicated the matter can be. What could she do, being only twelve?

Jordan spoke up, unexpectedly. “You’re saying nurses are needed? If there’s a shortage, I can help as well. What if I signed up for the VAD?”

Everyone’s eyes turned on her, and Tessa wasn’t an exception. The Voluntary Aid Detachment involved civilian women who worked as nurses in hospitals and other organizations all around England and the Continent. Tessa was hardly surprised, though, that Jordan would want to do that. Aside from being pretty and popular, her older sister was also studious, and almost demonstrative of her success in the natural sciences. 

“Jordan, being a nurse isn’t nearly as romantic as you imagine. Besides, you’re only fifteen.” 

“And I am the top student out of my peers in biology and chemistry, as you know well yourself, Papa,” Jordan countered, folding her hands in her lap and matching her father’s skepticism with an unfazed look. “Blood and infirmity won’t frighten me, either. I am not only good at partying and socializing, you know.”

The last quip was a clear message, and Jim had the grace to look a tiny bit embarrassed. Tessa concluded that it meant Jordan won her case. Sure enough, her father said, at last, “All right. You may sign up, then, with our hospital.” 

Jordan smiled and nodded.  _ She’d make a good countess, too, with all that initiative,  _ Tessa found herself musing.  _ It’s a shame she doesn’t want to. _

Some part of her brought her an uncertain relief from that thought, all the same. Tessa had begun to think of the whole place as  _ her  _ Ilderton, which she wouldn’t give up for the world, not to anyone. Not even to her beloved sister -  and with good reason, after all. Jordan won’t care about staying so near her birthplace. She was a free spirit; she’d want to travel, see the country - why, even the whole world. Tessa, as much as she liked to explore unfamiliar places, felt the happiest in their vast home.

 

So, she puzzled over how to help Ilderton’s war effort, while over the next few days, a part of it was being transformed in a way she had not guessed it would be. A month later than the first conversation about the convalescent house plan, Tessa wandered into their ballroom, and - The grand, fancifully decorated room of old was now the very image of a big hospital ward. 

She did have an idea of what hospitals looked like, since she had gone a few times to the town infirmary as a child, for the sprained ankle in the past winter. Much of the same layout she could observe now in the ballroom where she and Jordan fantasized about dancing as grown-up ladies. Gone were the gilded, brocade-upholstered chairs and the sturdy, shiny-legged tables. Instead, two rows of sterile iron-framed beds now took up most of the space. The elegantly carved mahogany grand piano had been removed, and, in front of her very eyes, the huge oil portrait of Anne Virtue, the first Earl of Ilderton’s daughter, was brought down from the wall and carefully carried out.

Somewhat to the back, she finally glimpsed Scott, in the unchanging company of his brothers. Scott wrestled with arranging the last bed, while Danny and Charlie were hammering away at an arrangement that was slowly taking the shape of a small cabinet. Parts for several other little chests of drawers were scattered around them, and, as always, their voices rang out over the noise of their work.

Scott, a bit flushed and out of breath with his pushing of the bed frame, stopped what he was doing and grinned at Tessa. He straightened into a formal pose, but that didn’t prevent him from twinkling his eyes at her. 

“The ballroom is remodeled, Lady Tessa, and now it’s called the Ilderton Hospital,” he said, gruffly on purpose to imitate a handyman talking to an employer. Tessa smiled at the joke, and looked around, still somewhat getting herself used to the unfamiliar details. 

“You haven’t done all this by yourselves, did you?” 

“We had to,” said Charlie. “Pa’s still a bit uncomfortable with doing any hard work. Besides, he had to work it all out on paper and make the decisions. He’s done a lot already.”

“But we don’t mind it, do we, boys?” Scott piped up. His brothers shrugged. 

“I guess not,” Danny admitted. Some strange discomfort swept over Tessa. At once, she felt ungrateful and lazy, standing there while her peers had to work as if they were adults. She shuffled from foot to foot, avoiding Charlie and Danny’s eyes, who seemed unfazed by the situation. 

“Would you- would you like any help?” she offered, looking at Scott who took another momentary pause from bed-arranging. He looked at her, clearly not expecting that suggestion.

“I mean, this is quite heavy, so...do you really want to?” He glanced from Tessa to the bed, like it was an enormous burden that he was reluctant to cast upon her. She also noted that he said nothing to the effect of ‘This is not a task for ladies,’ the way her parents would have undoubtedly nagged her. 

“Yes,” said Tessa, growing even surer. “I see it’s bulky, but between the two of us, we can move it faster, so you don’t have to exert yourself that much.”

A smile of encouragement and gratitude brightened Scott’s face, and he said, “Fine, then - grab the opposite side.” Tessa grasped the frame at the foot of the bed, while Scott held onto the headboard, and, together, they began to inch the bed to its spot. 

“Done!” Scott announced, as soon as they managed to fit it just right. Tessa paused to catch her breath, meanwhile. The bed was as unwieldy as she imagined, but the nagging feeling of idleness disappeared. “Thank you so much, Tess.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she replied hastily, blushing for an inexplicable reason, even if a part of her mind suggested that she felt so appreciated as a friend and helper, which made her so glad that she was friends with Scott. She was about to suggest her services in further help for him, when Jordan’s voice rang out, as she strode into the room.

“Everyone ready to see the brand-new Jordan Virtue?” 

Scott came out from around the bed frame, and stood next to Tessa. He smirked and crossed his arms, watching Jordan approach. Even Charlie and Danny stopped their handiwork to look at her grand entrance. 

Jordan looked quite different than usual. Instead of the classic everyday outfit of ecru blouse and navy or dark red serge skirt that both Virtue girls wore as casual clothes, she had on a gray-blue cotton chambray dress, with a crisp white apron that had a bright red cross on the bosom. Also, she had her dark hair coiled as a braid on the back of her head, and it gleamed in the light. Overall, she was, all of a sudden, impressively grown-up. It was obvious that she was both aware and proud of that fact. Never before had Tessa seen her posture so straight or her head held so confidently. She herself felt quite babyish next to her sister, with her own hair hanging braided down her back, still too short to put up in a mature hairstyle. 

“Well?” asked Jordan, grinning and doing a little spin. “Do I look like a nurse yet?”

A small chorus of ‘Yes!’ sounded from her grateful audience, but Tessa noticed how Danny glanced at her quickly, commented, ‘You do, Lady Jordan,’ and then averted his eyes to the drawer he’d been working on, like it was very interesting. 

Charlie visibly hid a grin. Sure enough, Scott’s eyes widened too, when Charlie poked him. Tessa, for all her bewilderment, knew that Danny will be teased later on. 

“My name isn’t ‘Lady’ anymore,” Jordan informed him, “it’s ‘Nurse Virtue.’” To that, Charlie and Scott exchanged impish looks, and  _ oohed  _ in pretend fear, when she rolled her eyes.

“Alright, brothers, we’d better go, before Nurse Virtue diagnoses us and says we have to take codfish oil four times a day,” Charlie snickered. Even Tessa had a laugh, as they began to gather their tools and tidy up. The brothers barely took a few steps out, though, when Jordan called Danny’s name.

“Yes?” Patches of dark pink appeared on the boy’s cheeks. Jordan gestured down.

“You just forgot your nail tin. Here,” and bent down to get it and take it to Danny, but he’d already moved forward, and Tessa and the others watched as their siblings nearly collided. After flustered ‘sorrys’ from him and a nonchalant ‘That’s fine’ from her, the groups finally said their goodbyes.

“Either I don’t understand anything, or that one’s sweet on me,” Jordan observed, pointing at Danny’s retreating back. Tessa shrugged.

“Why are you surprised, though? You’re rather beautiful.” Which was completely true, but Jordan scoffed, as if wanting to argue the opposite.

“I’d rather not be liked for my beauty all the time. I’ve had that proposal earlier in the spring from that one chap, remember? He’d told Mama that he’d be talking about me with Father when he returns, and all.”

Tessa fell silent. She did remember the relative of one of Jordan’s friends making the astonishing announcement to Kate, where she replied with a resounding ‘No.’ Her arguments were that Jordan wasn’t ‘out’ in society yet, and that there was too large an age gap between her and the potential suitor. 

“That man liked you,” Tessa said hesitantly. Jordan pursed her lips. 

“He liked my looks and our money,” she retorted. “He wouldn’t care what sort of person I am, outside of my appearance.”

“But he didn’t strike me as greedy, all the same.”

“It was my first proposal, Tess! The bloke was  _ thirty _ !” 

A playful smirk crossed Tessa’s face. “I know, Jo. It’s fine. Maybe you have been waiting for a prince like Danny Moir, by-the-by,” to which Jordan gave her a light shove.

“To marry a Moir? They’re practically our brothers! This is just his infatuation, and it will pass.”

“I’ve never thought of Scott as a brother,” Tessa found herself confessing. “More like a...friend. A good friend. We’re only friends, without any crushes and all these silly infatuations. I like it better that way. You should consider Danny, still. Look what a lovely potential husband: hardworking, talented, can even build furniture from scratch…” She trailed off, in a fit of giggles. She couldn’t wait to laugh about this with Scott later. 

Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “Want some cod oil? I can arrange that, if you say one more joke about me and the boy.” Her eyes were full of mirth all the same. “Speaking of medicine, in fact I was looking for you, because I wanted to make sure you weren’t taken ill.”

Tessa blinked. “Why would I be ill?”

“Don’t you know?”

“What should I know?”

Jordan hesitated, twisting her apron in her hands, and then blurted out, “Mama was sick. I’ve seen her...um…” She colored. “She was talking to me in the hallway and then went all green and dashed into the bathroom. I was just worried you’d gotten the same thing as she has.”

That made Tessa’s heart thud. What was wrong with Mama? She’d just gotten over one of her parents being injured, and now the other was unwell…

“Ah, there you are, miladies!”

One of their maids was hurrying towards them. “Your mother wishes to see you.”

Now genuinely tense, the sisters wasted no time in clambering back upstairs. On one of the landings, Tessa tugged on Jordan’s skirt and pointed out an automobile in the driveway. “That’s our doctor!”

_ Jesus,  _ what was the matter that Mama had to call a doctor?

Their mother did look pale and tired, when they entered her room, but she was smiling. This wasn’t quite the expected expression for one gravely ill, and it puzzled Tessa.

“Mama? Is everything all right?”

“We know the doctor had just left, Mama,” Jordan said firmly. “We’d like to know the truth, no matter what.”

Kate smiled, and tears glittered in her eyes. “My darling girls,” she said tremulously. “What happened to me is not an illness, but a completely natural state for a married woman.”

Tessa and Jordan stared at her, and she clarified, “I’m expecting a baby.” And gathered them both into a hug, letting her happy tears fall free.

 

_ Six months later _

 

Tessa could not get used to the sight of her mother with child. She looked the same as she ever did, only with a sizable round abdomen under her clothes. She was worried most of the time, too, judging from a conversation with Alma that Tessa could not help but overhear yesterday.

“Alma, I’m scared. What if anything goes wrong? I have a bad feeling about this.”

A no-nonsense scoff from Alma. “There’s nothing to worry about, madam. You’re progressing well enough, from what I observe. Just three short months, and the baby will be born.”

“But that’s just it,” Kate’s voice did not lose any anxiety. “I’m no longer a young girl. I am forty years old. Some women become grandmothers for the first time at my age, and here I am, parading a belly the third time. It’s quite...awkward.” 

Even Tessa was sorry to hear such self-assessment. She thought her mother looked adorable, like a mother goose from a storybook for babies. 

“Not that awkward, Your Ladyship,” Alma contradicted. “My own late mother had seven of us in total, and the last one she had even a couple years older than yourself.” 

“That was different. Working women were always stronger and healthier than our dawdling class. Seven or ten would not be an issue for them. My only two daughters didn’t come easy for me, either.” 

Alma made another placating reply, to which Kate sighed. “And my husband...I know he’s definitely hoping for a boy this time. What if it’s a girl, again? I know I won’t care. But he will.”

“May I be honest with you?”

“Yes, of course.” 

“It’s the man, actually, on whom it depends whether it’s a boy or a girl. So milord should address any complaints to himself only. If it’s another girl, then that is your fate, and you should be grateful for it. Especially he does,” Alma said firmly.

“I suppose so.”

Tessa leaned away from the door, and reflected on everything she had just heard. She truly was excited to be a big sister, and she knew Jordan was, too. There was one thing she wasn’t so sure about: the heir dilemma. She would be happy with a brother  _ or  _ a sister, but a tiny niggling thought whispered to her of the idea of her parents spoiling and doting on the long-awaited boy, and putting their daughters in the second place. Her father was strutting around and making transparent hints about eagerly awaiting a baby boy, and Tessa could not say she liked such behavior.

Quickly, she shook herself out of that mood. She will love any baby that is born, unquestionably. No matter who said what.

 

And people did have their opinions. One day, just before Christmas, they had visited the Davises. Jordan, Tessa, and Meryl all talked together in Meryl’s room, away from the adults that convened in the library. Some time later, Jordan had excused herself, and Tessa was left alone with Meryl. The atmosphere turned awkward. Meryl was Jordan’s friend, but Tessa did not harbor a great liking to the American girl. 

“So,” Meryl began, her grin telling that she was up to no good, “your parents are having a baby.”

“That’s right,” Tessa said. Her gaze remained fixed on a painting on the wall in front of the settee they were on.

“And they’re hoping for a boy, aren’t they?” Meryl’s eyes were wide with the promise of gossip. 

“They will be happy with a girl, too.” Tessa shivered with discomfort. She willed Jordan to come back already. 

“Oh Tessa, you’re so  _ silly.  _ Of course they wouldn’t be as happy with a daughter as they would be with a son. Parents of  _ your circle  _ never love daughters as much as sons, do they? All you Brits ever care about are heirs for your estates,” she pointed out, triumphant at having struck the truth. 

Tessa’s mouth hung open, and she felt the sting of tears, combined shock and anger and fear of  _ was it really like that? Did she just not pay attention to what Meryl was so bluntly explaining to her?  _

“You’re wrong,” was all she could answer, but her voice was a weak whisper. “Our parents love us.”

“Try saying that again when they marry Jordan off to the first available bidder and send you to live with distant family, as soon as they get their wish,” Meryl said, with maddening certainty.

And Tessa exploded, shooting to her feet, trembling all over. She won’t hear another word of this, not from Meryl.

“Shut up, you idiot!” 

For a moment, she wanted to slap Meryl’s self-satisfied smirk off her face. The girl never lost her composure. It appeared that Tessa’s anger amused her.

“What a  _ child  _ you are, Tessa…”

Blood rushed into Tessa’s brain, blinding her. “Why you -”

“Meryl? Tess? What happened?”

Jordan was standing in the doorway, frowning at them. Tessa felt her pounding heart calm down, with considerable effort. 

“Nothing at all,” she managed, pulling together a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I have a frightful headache. Tell Papa to have Wheeler drive me home.”

 

They all ended up going home shortly, anyway. Tessa did not say a word to anyone, who, in fact, did not suspect that she had a spat with Meryl. Once home, she offered to finish decorating the large Christmas tree in the hospital room, for the arrival of the first injured soldiers. Scott had been giving her questioning looks all the while before, and he signed up to partner with her. They were left alone.

“Tessa. I know something happened. Talk to me, maybe I can help,” he said, looking at her and making no move to start decorating the tree. Tessa hung her head and, on the opposite, opened the nearest box and took out a random ornament, simply to occupy herself. 

“It was all Meryl Davis.”

A frown pushed Scott’s eyebrows low. “What did she do?”

“She said…” A tear from her eye dropped onto the glass ball. “That, once my parents have a son, they will keep Jordan and me far away from Ilderton just so they can raise a proper heir.” Several more tears fell, and she blearily managed to fasten the ornament onto a branch.

His hand took hers. “Tess, you know your parents won’t do anything like that?” Tessa just sniffled and shrugged. The next thing she knew, Scott was pulling her into a hug. 

“What if she...what if she’s right? What if Mama and Papa won’t love us anymore once the baby is born?” True fear forced her to say the horrible words out loud. 

Scott pulled away and looked at her, suddenly so much more serious than the thirteen year-old, boisterous boy he otherwise was. “That Meryl girl is stupid,” he told her, rather aggressively, but it made Tessa calm. “She sounds jealous of your happy family, because she has no one but her parents who don’t give  _ her  _ enough attention. I know your parents won’t stop loving you, even if they do have a son. And, no matter what happens, you have your friends.”

That is, her friend. Him. 

_ Her fears were understood. She had support. She had an ally. _

 

Unpleasantries didn’t end there for Tessa that evening. In her room, she was preparing for bed, when noises from outside the door distracted her. Abandoning her hairbrush, she crept to the door and cracked it open.

Barbara Boyd was carrying a pile of what looked like her mother’s dresses. Tessa thought she intended to take them for cleaning, but the girl was muttering something to herself, appearing furious. “She won’t fire me,” she hissed, her words louder with every step. “She won’t, she won’t, she  _ won’t! _ ” Tessa watched, in shock, as Barbara threw the pile of dresses to the floor and gave them several vicious kicks. A telltale rip of the silk carried out in the hallway. Then, she picked them off the floor like nothing better than old rags, and walked on.

Incidentally, Tessa forgot about it until the following morning.

 

Nothing harbored any threats. The winter sun was shining, and so was the polished and decorated Ilderton, waiting for the holidays. 

Tessa knew her mother’s schedule like her own. She liked to have baths right after breakfast nowadays, saying that they relaxed her. Tessa and Jordan had breakfast with their mother that morning - Jim was already out for work. Sure enough, no one else but Barbara, Kate’s personal maid, entered her bedroom with “Your bath is prepared, madam.”

Jordan set out to get ready for another preparatory VAD lesson. Tessa planned to drop by the Moirs’ and spend time with Scott. She’d just ventured into the hallway leading past the bathrooms to her own room - 

A short, stunned cry echoed, half pain, half fear. It was doubtlessly Kate’s, and it was heard from the bathroom.

“No. No, no,  _ NO!  _ Someone help me!  _ Please! _ ”

Tessa stood rooted to the spot, throwing both her hands against her mouth, so her answering shriek wouldn’t fight its way out.

 

Only fragments were carved into Tessa’s memory from that moment onwards. People were running around, someone bashed open the bathroom door and ran inside - probably Joe. Alma followed closely. And screaming. There was so much shouting and yelling and screaming. The maids screamed from shock, Alma yelled at the maids, Joe shouted: “Send for the doctor!” as he hurried out, carefully holding -

Tessa stared. No. That wasn’t her Mama. Her Mama was always cheerful, always smiling, and  _ healthy _ , not a limp body in the arms of her butler, with a trail like Hanzel and Gretel left, only this one was so much more scary than breadcrumbs. A steady trickle of crimson on the lush Persian carpeting of the hallway. Mama wasn’t screaming anymore, and the silence was worse than the sound. 

Tessa slowly grew aware of herself shaking like she was trapped in a blizzard. Her legs seemed to be moving, though she would not say whether she walked or ran.

_ Find Mama. Be with Mama. Don’t let Mama die.  _

But the door on the other room containing her Mama was shut. She had been too late. And now she had to stand there, listening to Mama, dear Mama, come to and moan with pain.

_ “My baby...baby…” _

_ “Shh, madam, it’s all right. The doctor is coming.”  _ Alma said it in a voice that was appropriate for the bedside of the dying.

_ “Alma...baby…”  _

Tessa slowly slid down the door, her legs giving up on her. 

_ “Katie, honey, I know. I know. We will help, everything will be fine.” _

_ “Help...baby…where are you? Alma?” _

_ “Shh, don’t speak now. I’m right here, poor thing.” _

Tessa moved away, dumbly staring at nothing in particular. A person that smelled vaguely of medicine approached to knock at the door, and she all but ignored the sympathetic pat to her head. She was grateful he did not ask what she was doing there on the floor - he could have been the doctor, even God himself. Something unspeakably horrible was happening behind that door, Mama was in agony, judging from the sounds she kept making that finally made Tessa to clap her hands over her ears. Some curse prevented her from leaving the very precipice of hell. 

After ages and ages, the door creaked open. Alma, her eyes red, looked at Tessa sitting there unchangingly. She gathered her close, and that was enough for Tessa to understand. 

Snippets of confirmation came from inside the room:  _ “...barely saved her, but the baby...The baby boy was born dead.” _

Tessa did not remember how she untangled herself from the crying Alma, how she walked on down the hallway, downstairs, how she slipped outside without a coat or hat or even her boots. _The baby boy was born dead._ The cold snow provided a blessed numbness to her brain. _It was supposed to hurt, so why_ _wasn't it hurting?_  How she waded through to the Moirs’ cottage, how the door opened to a laughing Charlie and Danny, and how they silenced, eyes widening at the sight of her - she felt like she witnessed it from the side. How Scott himself was calling her Tutu, and how she mechanically replied to them, relating all she knew in chopped phrases.

“The baby…”

“God, what’s with the baby, Tessa?” 

Charlie and Danny’s curiosity was rushed and outspoken. Only Scott’s eyes implored silently. 

Tessa inhaled, like she was about to dive into freezing water. 

“The baby was born dead.”

She moved her eyes across the three shocked pairs.

"It was a boy."

  
  



	8. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who could be to blame for what happened to Kate in the previous chapter? Who will be the Russian immigrants with familiar names that moved near Ilderton? How many secrets did the Virtue family have? Why was Scott's family ordinary only at first glance? What new threat had come to Ilderton Hall meanwhile?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, dear readers!
> 
> I hope everyone's 2019 was off to a wonderful start. I had nothing particular to do yet, still planning my grad school practicum, so the result was a more than 9k chapter lol. 
> 
> Please enjoy, and tell me how you liked it!

She will never get used to the little headstone bearing the inscription  _ James Virtue, Jr,  _ in their family plot in the cemetery.

Her baby brother was lying underground. Tessa imagined his little arms crossed on his chest, his eyes closed and the silky lashes of his closed eyelids resting on his cheekbones, like in paintings of heavenly cherubs. She had not seen what he actually was like - no one let her. She only imagined it, and wept at night until she felt hollow inside. Why would a precious, innocent small person be so cruelly given a hint of life, to have it taken away?

The day of the funeral was somehow worse than the day of the baby’s birth and death. The coffin was impossibly tiny, even more tiny than she could have pictured. Tessa had to stand there, listen to Jordan cry and see her father’s grieving face. She had to receive condolences from the Moirs, their neighbors, and everyone else. And she couldn’t cry in front of people. Sobs, lamentations, and other theatrics couldn’t possibly express that fire of grief in her chest. Her only moment of respite was, when Scott himself approached her inside the church and slipped his hand into hers. The simple movement grounded her, not letting her lose her mind completely. 

Kate was at times delirious, at times unconscious, for several days after the tragedy, calling out for her baby boy even in her sleep. The worst thing about the situation is that she had gone unconscious from blood loss the moment she managed to give birth, and did not know that she didn’t have a living child. When an aggrieved Alma gave her the news, she shut down, and the paroxysms of mourning began some time later.

Tessa remembered how she spent hours in Mama’s room a couple weeks after, either reading out loud to her, or working on her knitting for the soldiers and talking about the most inane subjects, while Kate remained quiet. She answered when someone addressed her, but was otherwise secluded in silence. Jordan visited her mother, but she escaped to her nursing duties with a zeal that spoke of her own attempt to deal with the aftermath. After all, she’d lost a baby sibling too, Tessa reasoned.

The combined efforts of Alma, Tessa, and, surprisingly, Jim, who intervened with a psychologist doctor, brought Kate back to more or less normal life. Tessa, as much as she felt awful for her parents, sensed that the tragedy of their dead son was for her personally a divide between childlike innocence and adulthood, with its trials and suffering. As always, her only constant was her friendship with Scott, and maybe sketching, a pastime to which she devoted increasing attention.

The maid Barbara took a drastic change of personality. Where she first was acerbic, brusque, and even rude, she was suddenly crying more often than showing other emotion. Those in Ilderton Hall often found her on her knees in front of Kate and Jim’s bedroom door at night, as if she was a sinner kneeling before an altar. She would remain in that position for hours. At times when servants took their meals, she refused any food and only drank water, causing herself to faint once or twice. For all anyone knew, she looked like she wanted to punish herself for a horrible crime. 

Alma Moir was a shrewd woman, and she figured out the reason for this strange mourning quite easily. Poor Kate...Barbara must have overheard their half-serious discussions of which maid they might have to dismiss if they hired a nanny for the baby, and understood it as preparation for her own firing. Right after Kate’s accident, Alma glimpsed a bar of soap, on which the unfortunate woman surely had slipped, and she put that and Barbara’s snappy attitude together. It was obvious that the girl put it there specifically so Kate would slip, and was sadly not mistaken. 

The girl, though, seemed to understand what a horrible thing she had caused, and so was cruelly punishing herself for it. On impulse, Alma decided that she’d go to Kate and Jim, tell them her suspicions, and then get a vengeful satisfaction in the form of a shamed, humiliated, and ultimately fired (if not imprisoned) maid. But then, she calmed herself, and reasoned: what would that do, other than give the bereft parents more pain, over something that was unchangeable? Ilderton had had enough grief and tears already, and Alma, like a true Catholic, reasoned that justice would find Barbara one way or another.

_ I hope, dear Lord, that you will forgive your handmaid this one sin,  _ she prayed every night. She wanted the Virtues to heal, and, if it were possible due to her concealing some things, she was willing to make that sacrifice. She loved this family nearly as much as she did her own: the gentle Kate, who was making the most of herself in her adopted country, the confident Jordan, and even the cool and impersonal but not unkind Jim. And, of course, Tessa. Especially Tessa. Alma had a soft spot in her heart for the child, right next to the three soft spots for her rambunctious boys. Well, in any case, Tessa was fourteen now, and with her age came changes that were invisible to her but plain to Alma. She knew, just like she had said to Kate, that Tessa’s bond with Scott was close-knit enough to spill over the boundaries of simple friendship, with time. A part of her feared the change. Neither of them deserved heartbreak that was sure to come because of their differences. They were fifteen and fourteen now, at the age of first infatuations and daydreams. Alma hoped, with all her heart, that these children who were already so devoted in their friendship, would not suffer.

 

_ 1917 _

The second anniversary of the baby’s death had passed. The gaping wounds were painfully healing into dark scars. Life had to resume, whether they liked it or not.

The estate was now smoothly functioning as a hospital, with Jordan as one of the most conscientious junior nurses. She was not admitted to the major surgeries yet, but was a splendid assistant nurse. She was also increasingly rebellious: she liked to taunt her parents with the ‘completely serious’ declarations that she won’t marry at all, but go on to become the most famous female doctor in England, to the point of saying as much over dinner with company and in public, when asked about her current position. Kate and Jim tut-tutted, complained that she was turning into a flapper, but did not really restrain her.

Tessa was quite content to be outside any dramas or clashes with parental upbringing. She was slowly discovering her passion: clothing. Not in the vain sense of buying overmuch, but in design of outfits. Her shrine was the boutique of Lady Lucy Duff-Gordon in Ilderton’s shopping area - with the glamorous  _ toilettes  _ in the window cases. All the socialites and wellborn ladies of the vicinity had their clothes created only in the lady’s boutique. In addition to its popularity, the fact that nobody judged Lady Gordon for vanity in wartime was that she donated most of her profits to the war effort. Jordan, who was now seventeen, was devoting increasing diligence to her clothes as a future debutante, and was excitedly sharing with Tessa that her court presentation clothes would be sewn in Lady Gordon’s atelier. Tessa couldn’t even imagine what it would be like, walking into the temple of fashion like a mature lady, to select fabrics and trims and embellishments from which to stitch together a wearable artwork. Yet, more time would have to pass before she’d step into the boutique. 

Tessa had different places to visit, for the time being. 

 

“Are we  _ required  _ to be there?” she asked Jordan plaintively, the day that they were getting ready for another visit out. 

Her sister threw her an unfazed glance. “We do, because that’s what our parents want. They want to meet those Russians, the  _ emigrés _ ,” she reminded, eyeing her maid’s handiwork of her hairstyle. 

Tessa sighed. She was just about sick and tired of discussing the Russians. They fled the political revolts in their country, Papa had said, because aristocrats were being hunted. The tsar and his family were executed by revolutionaries, and those of the aristocratic class that have not fell dead from guns themselves escaped to different nations. As much as Tessa felt sorry for the people, she did not really care about those particular Russians that her parents were so curious about. The most important reason was that the immigrants had settled right next door to the Davis family, and they all became friends. In Tessa’s books, friends of the Davises were unsuitable candidates for her own friends. Jordan too began to distance herself from Meryl, even though Meryl and Tessa’s argument from two years ago remained the younger Virtue’s secret. In any case, the sisters had to go visit the Russians out of obligation, and not so much genuine interest. 

 

“So. That is how my son and I escaped the hell that our Motherland has become.”

The woman, Marina Zueva, concluded her story. She was a countess herself, and her only son was a count, even though he was only seventeen.

“My husband was shot by a gang of hooligans, like many others of our kind,” was all she explained when prompted to reveal what happened to the elder Count Andreev. “Therefore, Fedor and I were forced to seek shelter somewhere safer.”

She also told them why her last name was different. “I inherited my late father’s estate and title, even though in Russia, those things are only passed on to sons. It was because I have been an only child, and my father was desperate to pass on his legacy.” 

The son, Fedor, said little, but Tessa decided did not like his demeanor. Something about him made him appear untrustworthy. He was smiling easily, but the smile was somehow off-putting, like he was mocking each one of them in his mind. 

Countess Zueva went on. “I hope to settle here. If possible, permanently. If not, at least for a year. I trust the people of Ilderton will be...accomodating,” she said, holding her head high, like the people of Ilderton now had the immense honor of accomodating an  _ entire  _ Russian countess. How Tessa wanted to roll her eyes. No, she did not like these two. To her side, she noticed Jordan’s raised eyebrows, directed onto her plate. 

“And there are lots of fetching English girls to court and make a marriage with,” Fedor spoke up. 

Tessa blinked. She could hardly believe that someone who called himself a gentleman would speak so indelicately. Now she understood why she disliked the boy - he was insincere and superficial. Another shock came when Fedor met Jordan’s eyes, and smiled significantly, right after his quip. Jordan graced him with a stiff smile that did not reach her icy gaze. Tessa just barely hid malicious contentment that Fedor’s stupid grin faded at such a response. 

She became afraid. What if her parents, God forbid, liked this chap and in time, seriously considered him for Jordan? The rest of the dinner, she continued to watch Mama and Papa, but they did not treat Fedor with any more attention than was polite. Crisis was averted.

 

“You should have  _ heard  _ them, Scott.  _ Oh, we’re such aristocrats, we have so many titles. Oh, woe is us, we are having such a difficulty adapting to our new life. Oh, how will I ever find my dear son a suitable wife?  _ Goodness, I know it’s frightful that their circle was persecuted, but I’d rather be inclined to shoot someone myself, if  _ all  _ they kept talking about was titles and marriage!” 

Scott looked at her incredulously, then tossed his head back with an uproarious laugh. “Why, that’s so barbarian of you, dear Tessa,” he pretended to chide. “Where is your Christian charity? The poor little rich Russians narrowly escaped death!” 

By now, Tessa was laughing too, and had to grab onto his shoulder to steady herself. They composed themselves after a minute, now looking at each other, but abruptly, Tessa sensed a  _ change. _

It was still Scott, the same as ever. He did not look or sound any different, but then again, he  _ did.  _ Tessa, with a jolt somewhere suspiciously close to her heart, realized that the way his eyes shone, with mirth and good-natured teasing, made her feel...well, she couldn’t say. His smile was so boyishly charming, that she felt special, being regarded like that. For some reason, her cheeks also felt warm, and she had the impulse to lower her eyes away from his laughing ones. 

“What do you want to do now?” she asked clumsily, wanting to put the awkward moment to an end. Scott blinked slowly and grew serious again.

“I don’t know - what do  _ you  _ want to do? It’s raining outside. How about a round of cards, eh?”

“You’ll beat me at cards,” Tessa replied to that, and he didn’t delay his smirk. “Maybe charades instead?”

Scott gently poked her in the arm. “Well, you’d beat  _ me _ then.” Another smile which, combined with the friendly poke, made her shiver. 

_ My room is too cold. I really should ask for better heating, whoever makes the fireplace. _

“I know! Let’s play hide-and-seek! I do love that.”

Oh God, why wouldn’t the ground open up to swallow her? She was a mature young lady, the way everyone always described her nowadays, and she just suggested they play such a stupidly childish thing? Scott didn’t seem put off by her spontaneous suggestion, even so.

“I’m in, kiddo,” he said, with that warm twinkle in his eyes again.

All of Tessa’s lifted spirits sank. It was the first time ever he called her that, and it sounded nice, but also...strange. Along with it, she became painfully aware that Scott was older and she was younger. Not by a great margin, if a year or so counted, but still. He called her kiddo and agreed to a game of hide-and-seek. 

_ He’s too polite to refuse you your immature whims,  _ a nasty little voice from her conscience prodded her. Still, she composed herself and smiled, hiding her disappointment. Hide-and-seek it is, because  _ Virtues never took their words back,  _ as was drilled into her from childhood.

She was the seeker to his hider. During her count to fifty, she did not say the numbers in her head, but instead yet again went back in her thought to Scott’s smiling face, to his mischievous gaze...What did it mean when her heart quite literally skipped at his teasing and poking and humor? They were friends, only friends, they couldn’t…

What? What couldn’t they? 

Tessa shook herself out of musing. More than the necessary time passed, and she had to go find Scott before he started to wonder what took her so long. 

“Come out, Scott! I know you’re in here somewhere!” 

She checked all the rooms on the second floor, but he wasn’t there. Thinking, she quickly climbed the stairs to the third floor and continued to look. Scott was always a clever hider, from the time they played it as small children. Once she even found him in the kitchen behind the icebox, after almost an hour of looking. But where was he now? He’d be too tall to hide in such a place now, so Tessa ruled the kitchen out for the time being. 

“Scott! Oh, Sco-ott!” she called in a sing-song voice, listening for any inadvertent snickers or fidgeting that would expose his hiding spot. Nothing behind any curtains. Closets with only clothes and nothing else. Emptiness under the beds. Huh. Which place had she not looked into yet?  _ Aha. The portrait room. _

To her great astonishment, Scott was right there, but he was just slowly walking around the room, examining all the portraits in turn. In fact, he looked like he hadn’t even made any efforts to hide in the first place. She decided to point that out to him, even though he looked so intrigued by all the people’s likenesses.

“You didn’t hide.”

“Nope,” he shrugged. Then turned to her and smiled. “Sorry about that. I thought it would be rude to just come in and hide without acquainting myself with your relatives.” A wink.

_ Stop skipping, stupid heart… _

“You’re very well-mannered.” Tessa moved her eyes to the portrait in front of which Scott had paused. 

“I try,” Scott replied. Another playful raise of an expressive eyebrow. This time, the skip of her heart was accompanied by a warmth blooming in her cheeks.

_ No, she definitely was being a fool.  _

“So,” he continued casually, “her name is Mary Virtue.” He nodded at the small golden plaque at the bottom of the frame.

“Yes,” Tessa agreed, looking at the somber dark-haired woman. “The first Earl’s wife.” An involuntary shiver passed through her. She knew the family stories of most of these people. Scott noticed, of course. A frown tinged his interested demeanor. 

“Did something bad happen to her?”

“She was the daughter of another earl, and her husband, the one who built Ilderton, he was…” Tessa took a deep breath. Her own parents have given her the watered-down version of Mary Virtue’s life, but the vague details were ghastly enough. “He was a very bad man. He...beat her. Often. And...and...violated her.” 

At fourteen, Tessa was old enough to guess what ‘violating’ a woman really meant, and she had been shocked to the core after learning such a fact about her poor great-great-great grandmother. “And my parents said that, at that time, doing such a thing to your wife wasn’t considered criminal. Mary’s parents sued the Earl, but the judge himself said that, as the wife, she had to obey her husband and that included…” 

Tessa shuddered. When had she started crying? 

“That included going to bed with him even if she didn’t want to.”

Scott’s hand found hers and squeezed. He raised the other to touch her cheek and brush the tears away.

“Tess,” his voice was hoarse. “God, that...that sounds awful. Please, don’t say anything else, if it’s so...bad. I hate that I made you distressed. I’m so sorry.”

She gulped back her tears. “It’s all right. You didn’t know. When my parents found out, in the family diaries - Mary’s was there, too - they took the first Earl’s portrait out of here and I think they said they burned it.” 

“Oh, Tess - ”

She shook her head, more or less stopping to cry. “It’s fine. All the rest of their stories don’t really have any...violence.” She moved on to the neighboring portrait. “Anyway, the first Earl had been one of the soldiers that went to the American colonies to fight in the revolution, and he died on the battlefield. Mary was left a widow, but she was at least free from all the...abuse. And her eldest son became the second Earl of Ilderton when he reached maturity.”

Tessa moved to the portrait titled  _ George Virtue, 2nd Earl of Ilderton and Baron Fordley. _ Scott eyed the portrait with suspicion. 

“Was  _ he  _ different from his father?”

“Oh, yes. Much. George was a good, loving husband and father. His daughter Anne was the eldest child, and was very well educated for that time, but she could definitely not inherit the estate, because of the law that only allowed male successors. And then there was an outbreak of cholera in the whole area. George and his wife and all their children died, but Anne survived.”

“That’s...good?” Scott asked hesitantly. Tessa shrugged.

“The issue was, George and his wife betrothed Anne to one of their distant cousins while they were still alive. That way, Ilderton’s inheritance was preserved, and it went to the cousin, but Anne…”

Scott glanced at her sharply. “Did he abuse her like the first one did Mary?”

“No, he was good to her too, but she didn’t love him, even though they lived together for thirty years, to a very old age, and had eight children. Her diary said that she had fallen in love with an ordinary farmer, and that of course, they could not be together. But then, the farmer and Anne tried to elope. They were found out at the last minute. The farmer was forbidden to approach Anne, and she had to very quickly marry her cousin, before enough people learned the story for it to become a scandal.”

By this time, Tessa had gotten engrossed in the tales, gesticulating energetically, and even impersonating the ancestors whose stories she was relating. Scott turned out to be a very grateful audience (at appropriate points in the story, he interjected with phrases like: ‘Whoa!’ ‘Did they really?’ ‘That’s unbelievable!’) 

“Actually…” Tessa affected a conspiratorial whisper. “What I’m going to say about that, you have to promise me to not repeat in front of others. My Papa would...well, he won’t do anything to me, but he’d be  _ very  _ angry if he knew I told you that.”

Scott’s eyes were bright, pupils blown wide with eagerness. “I promise I’ll never say anything to anyone. Trust me, kiddo.” Tessa felt a rush of warm contentment at the nickname now. It excited her to confide a family secret in her friend. 

“All right. So you know Anne almost eloped with her farmer. And then she was married off right away.” When Scott nodded, she hurried on, “She had a son, very quickly after the wedding.”

Scott let out a short laugh. “And why is that such a shocking secret?”

“She, um,” Tessa glanced left and right, as if afraid that someone was eavesdropping. “You know, she had the baby so soon after the wedding that...that it became uncertain whether it was her husband’s or the farmer’s son.”

Scott made a noncommittal  _ hmm.  _ Tessa interpreted the sound in her own way, and rushed on, “By the way, I personally don’t care and don’t find that shocking or bad. It’s only Papa. He wouldn’t want anyone to think that the children and grandchildren of our family might be the descendants of a farmer. He said it would prevent me and Jordan from making a suitable match and even ruin our reputations.”

“In spite of it being unconfirmed and far away in the past?” 

Scott’s skeptical tone had her shrug. “It’s Papa for you. Reputation is sacred to him. And there’s Anne’s diary, too. It was there in the papers, when we looked through them. In it, she wrote…” Tessa cut herself off, now truly blushing. “She wrote about how she met with the farmer in secret, and they...you know. They had a relationship. You - you know what I mean.”

Scott’s ears went scarlet red. “Right.”

“Jordan and I read it, and it was quite...detailed,” she told him, keeping her eyes stubbornly on Anne’s portrait. “Papa caught us at reading that and got very angry. He said we were wrong to read such things, and that Anne was an immoral woman.”

“I can’t believe he called love immoral.” From embarrassed, Scott became frustrated. “It wasn’t Anne’s fault that she didn’t love her husband. Better to love a farmer, than to be abused by your spouse, like the wife of the first one.”

Tessa nodded. “Also, this thing that Anne had with the farmer sort of had...strange outcomes. Even stranger than the son.”

“What else happened?” Scott looked unsure if he wanted to hear more stories, if they turned out tragic.

“You see...Anne’s cousin who was also her husband declared the son to be his legitimate child, because he was so in love with Anne that he forgave her even the farmer. But after their death, and in all the rest of the Virtue generations until my parents, there was always one child of an earl who fell in love with someone lower than him, socially.”

“Coincidences?”

“I suppose. But Anne’s son himself grew up to have similar opinions to those of my Papa. He somehow learned the speculation of his parenthood, and it shocked him so much that he tried to kill himself several times. He grew violent and hallucinated that everyone he talked to was his supposed father, the farmer, so he would try to attack them. Until they put him in a mental hospital, and there, they found out that he was planning to kill Anne, as well.” 

“He wanted to kill his  _ mother _ ?” Scott didn’t hide his disgust. He kept looking from Tessa to Anne Virtue’s portrait.

“And luckily, he didn’t. The doctors at the hospital told Anne that they heard him hallucinating, shouting insults at her like she could hear.”

Scott clicked his tongue, in both pity and condemnation. “Poor Anne. Couldn’t love whoever she wanted. That’s what society does to a person, eh?”

“Anne’s youngest son became the third Earl. The thing with the failed love affairs repeated. Here’s Margaret, the third Earl’s daughter. She never married after she’d fallen in love with one of the estate coachmen, and he was fired. Next, the fourth Earl had a son who wanted to marry a shopkeeper’s daughter, and he really did.”

In triumph, Tessa indicated two portraits side by side:  _ Benjamin Virtue, 5th Earl of Ilderton  _ and next to it,  _ Selina Virtue (née White). _

Scott looked impressed, as he studied the couple. “But how did he manage to do that? Wasn’t he afraid of his  _ reputation _ ? The daredevil,” he chuckled.

“It was all Selina, actually. Benjamin’s mother wrote a memoir that this girl, whose name was Sally, came to Ilderton and, walking in front of his mother and father, took a knife out of her sleeve and said that she’d stab herself in the heart if they did not agree to accept her as Benjamin’s bride immediately. And it looks like she managed to convince them, because the wedding took place sometime after. She changed her name to Selina, and now she’s known as one of the most influential countesses. She really made important changes. She was the first one to ban physical punishment of the servants, and declare about it publically. She helped the poor and orphaned children, she reformed the orphanage and the hospital. Later, she even managed to convince the government of the dukedom of Surrey that Ilderton’s school needed to allow girls to study along with boys. Now, it’s the general public school of Ilderton. All thanks to Selina.”

Scott listened without a single interruption. “Wow,” he commented, once Tessa was done. “She was something, all right. It’s good that Benjamin’s parents relented and let them marry.”

Tessa sighed. “She was said to have been pretty much soulmates with Benjamin. Sadly, they only had two children. After the birth of the second, Selina and the baby contracted some kind of fever that caused them to die. So she really did a staggering amount of work, having lived only to twenty-nine.”

When Scott said nothing, mulling over the sad ending of the story, Tessa admitted, “I want to be like Selina. Without the dying, I mean. She was very smart and confident. In a large part, Ilderton Hall is what it is right now thanks to her.”

“You even look like her,” Scott said, nodding at the portrait. Tessa glanced curiously, but shrugged.

“Really? I don’t see any resemblance.” But he shook his head and continued to persuade her.

“Not at first glance, but you have the same shape of the face and a proud manner of carrying yourself,” he pointed out, and, bizarrely, blushed.

Tessa hid her gaze again. “Maybe. She was my ancestor, so I’m not surprised. And I think that the love thing was only a coincidence. After all, Mama was the only love in Papa’s life, and he never had any attachments before they married. And, while she’s not from an aristocratic family, she’s not of the common population. So, who knows...I generally feel that love knows no obstacles. It will take a person by surprise.”

“Incredible,” Scott said, after a moment’s silence. “Your family’s history is so fascinating. Often very sad, but fascinating.” Neither of them noticed the time that passed since their planned hide-and-seek game turned into a game of uncover-and-discuss-history.

“What do you know about your ancestors?” Tessa found herself questioning. Scott raised his eyebrows.

“Nothing. Ma is the daughter of a midwife, Pa is the son of your grandfather’s butler. Nothing dramatic or fancy, no secret diaries or family crests…”

Tessa seemed to have been hit by lightning. She jumped as if scared to within an inch of her life.

_ “Family crests!”  _ she whispered, eyes unfocused and stunned. Scott peered at her worriedly.

“Right, I said that my family doesn’t have any. Are you - are you all right?” he asked, when she still gaped in front of her. She abruptly turned to him, eyes wide like saucers.

“That’s just it! How could I forget! Follow me!”

Scott couldn’t collect himself before she grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the portrait room. In no time, they arrived at the library.

“Tess?” he tried to catch his breath, bewildered when she tore into the room and began haphazardly digging through the nearest bookshelf. She focused on searching, and then, glowing with excitement, ran back and showed him the cover. 

_ “The British Herald,”  _ Scott read slowly. He looked back at Tessa, clearly not catching her meaning.

“I had to read this for supplemental material, in one of my history lessons earlier this year. I only just now remembered…” Without finishing the sentence, she began to leaf through the pages.  _ “Yes,” _ she murmured. “Of course it’s here.”

Scott looked where she pointed. “ _ The Scottish clans. Origins and coat of arms of the More family.”  _ Next to him, Tessa was practically buzzing with urgency.

“Go on!” she encouraged.”Look here now,” and her finger slid down the page to a small section.  _ “Alternate spellings of the name: Moore, Muir, and Moir.”  _

He slowly raised his stunned eyes to Tessa’s. She was grinning full on. “How amazing is that? Your last name is so famous and we wouldn’t even know, had I not had this book in our library and read it, on accident…” But Scott was still mostly speechless, even though he’d hardly expected to discover what he just had.

“Also...look at this, T,” he showed her. Recalling his Latin lessons, he was able to make out the text on the coat of arms: “ _ Virtute, non aliter.  _ No other way except virtue.”

“Whoa. Now that’s a bit...scary. I didn’t even notice that motto. It’s like these medieval families knew that your family will be involved with mine,” Tessa mused, studying the colorful crest. 

“And look, it has some information on how the first member of the family met his wife.”

They leaned over the page to take a closer look.

_ Adam and Janet, the first of the clan More. _

_ Adam de la More came to Scotland from England in the year 1213, to be a knight in the King of Scotland’s court. He married Janet of the Polkellies, one of the wealthiest heiresses in the country, and their family would go on to establish the de la Mores, a family part of the Scottish Clan Gordon. _

_ Adam de la More’s rival, the Laird of Rowallan, wanted Polkellie’s lady and heiress as a wife for himself, since by marrying her, he would have significant influence over the King’s court. First, he was to eliminate Adam as a potential husband. Rowallan planned to, quoted,  _

_ ‘Accuse yon lady of heavy misconduct, that alleged of her are indecencies, making her unsuitable as a wife. Yet, this maiden, seeing that it is abominable slander against her person, appeared to Adam and his men, when he set out to her home to investigate. She assured him of being innocent of such accusations, and that she swears it on pain of losing her life. Adam de la More’s rival was promptly banished from court for his scheming, and the knight became free to marry his chosen lady.’ _

_ Adam and Janet were known for their strong marriage union. They had eleven children. After the birth of the first one, a daughter named Janet, Adam was said to be so thrilled with a happy outcome for both mother and baby that he ripped a large jade stone off his belt buckle and presented it to his wife. She had the jade put in a golden setting and wore it as a ring for the rest of her life. The stone was the exact color of her eyes, earning itself the name Janet’s Eye. It was also rumored to acquire nearly magical powers, such as helping people who wore it heal from illness or wounds. Janet’s Eye was passed from mother to daughter in the More family, but as centuries passed, the traces of the famous ring disappeared.  _

Abruptly, Scott let go of his half of the book and slapped his forehead. “Damn!”

It was Tessa’s turn to stare at him without comprehension. “What’s wrong?”

“Tessa!” His hazel eyes turned bright and intense, like he was about to tell her he uncovered a treasure trove. “I think I might know where this ring is right now.”

“What…?” Tessa wasn’t sure whether to believe him. He sounded as if it was another prank, but his use of her full name instead of nicknames led her to think he was serious.

Scott’s eyes bore into hers. “I think my parents  _ have  _ this ring!” His finger jabbed the page with the passage that they just read.

Now Tessa was the one to be rooted to the spot. “Are you serious - but how would your  _ parents _ -”

“Come with me now,” Scott urged, gesturing out. “We can check for ourselves.” The two crept out of the library, carefully checking if the coast was clear. Tessa’s hands were full: in one, she clutched the book of heraldry, at Scott’s suggestion, and in the other, she held his own palm. Was her heart pounding from the excitement of this investigation, or from the sight of Scott’s own excitement? Did she really think that some silly little game of hide-and-seek was more fun than this spontaneous one of connect-the-dots? Thinking of all this, Tessa suddenly realized that Scott was unlocking the door to his parents’ cottage with the key he always wore on a string around his neck.

Just like she did with the books in the library, he strode over to Alma and Joe’s bedroom, and opened his mother’s jewelry box, which was actually not locked at all. Tessa’s mouth dried, looking at him do that so blatantly. It was one thing to hunt for a book, but quite another to touch your parents’ valuables without them knowing…

Scott, his eyes even brighter than before, held up an ornately-set ring. The golden band flanked a large stone. It was an unmistakably green jade.

“See?” he rejoiced. “The book said that the ring has a jade stone. I read that and immediately thought about this. My Pa gave it to my Ma when they got married. It was his mother’s, my gran’s, ring.”

Tessa stared at the piece of jewelry, not believing her eyes. “You think this ring can genuinely be Janet’s Eye?” she asked hoarsely. 

“It all fits,” he said, breathless  with the discovery. “The name of the family is More, that is, Moir. My family is Moir. Adam gave Janet a jade ring.  _ This _ ring is also jade. This is like…” he placed the ring very carefully back into the box. “Like finding Excalibur, or something…”

Tessa, for all her head was spinning at the possibility, remained a bit skeptical. “The book also said that this ring is supposed to have magical powers, to heal people...Do you think your mother’s ring can do that?”

Scott scratched the back of his neck, eyeing the jewelry box. “Who knows. I mean, it would take someone to fall ill in order to test that,” he admitted. “Maybe the next time I have a common chill, I’ll swallow the ring and see what happens.” Another friendly tap on Tessa’s shoulder indicated that he was horseplaying, as before. She chuckled.

“I don’t think swallowing the bauble will help more than harm. I think the person has to wear the ring or hold it. You can also bring it to me if I take ill, and I can try it, too,” she attempted to joke, but saw that it felt flat, when Scott’s expression of humor changed, very abruptly.

“Tess. Don’t say that. You won’t be sick, and I don’t want you to, this ring be damned. I’d - I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.”

The short but passionate speech shocked Tessa. He was so serious but so earnest, with his words, and with the way his palms grasped her shoulders, like by touching her, he could protect her from any evil. 

“You and I will live a long and happy life,” he murmured. “Friendship like ours is a strong enough thing. I know it without a magic ring, kiddo.”

Tessa barely blinked when she felt his lips land on her cheek, softly. 

_ God, whatever did any of this mean? The kiss, ‘friendship like ours…’ _

“Everyone is probably wondering where we are,” she managed to reply quietly, suddenly wanting to dive into the snow to cool her burning face. “Let’s get back.”

Scott smiled again. “Let’s.”

 

Neither of them knew how close to the truth their speculations were.

Her father, in true to himself fashion, dropped the bomb on everyone in Ilderton. “The Spanish influenza is said to have become epidemic. People are getting sick and dying by the dozens every day. Nothing that the doctors do seem to help, most of the time. Only a handful of every twenty or so remains living after the recovery.”

“God help those poor people,” the empathetic Alma said, shaking her head. 

Jim’s family members and servants listened silently. Jordan still wasn’t there, being down in the hospital room with the newest soldiers, but in a few seconds, steps echoed outside the door. It swung open and she entered.

“I’m sorry for lateness - the nurses needed much help.”

_ “Jordan!”  _ exclaimed Jim, and Tessa noticed how pale his face became. “Are you  _ still  _ volunteering?”

“Why, of course,” Jordan said, not understanding what he wanted to say. “There are even more wounded…”

“You have to stop!” Jim cried, waving his hand. “Jordan, you have to cease working in the convalescent room. The flu is spreading so quickly, that it’s a miracle none of the soldiers have gotten sick. Therefore, I am telling you now that you no longer may work with the nurses.”

“But, Papa -”

He cut her off. “That’s the end of this discussion. And everyone present here,” he eyed the nervous audience, “are from now on forbidden to even approach the hospitalization room. The last thing Ilderton needs is the spreading of illness. I’ll try to do everything to help keep it out of our nearest vicinities.”

Jordan fell into the nearest chair, crossing her arms and huffing. But more sudden knocks sounded.

At the request to enter, one of the senior nurses poked her head in. “Your Lordship! Something strange is happening to some of the privates - a few have very high fevers and muscle aches. This has nothing to do with injuries, and the head of our team told me to say that we have to call the general hospital’s doctor, because we suspect the influenza…”

Jim muttered a barely-hidden curse. “Splendid. Yes, of course call the doctor, and immediately. I need to decide how to act, now that these soldiers are probably ill with the virus.”

 

Jordan had later complained a bit that her budding career in medicine was over, but Tessa’s mind was occupied with the soldiers. She felt so intensely sorry for them, and full of vague fear at this new thing threatening to consume Ilderton. Maybe she could ask Scott to take his mother’s ring, and they both could check if it’s truly Janet’s Eye, by letting the soldiers hold it and hope they can recover. 

“Here are the heroes who had saved Ilderton Hall from a deadly disease,” everyone would praise them. And yet, she still mostly thought that, even if Scott’s family ring was the one from the legend, its healing qualities were fictional. But her throat was so annoyingly sore the whole morning, that she could hardly eat at breakfast. She should convince Scott to try the ring method.

“Lady Tessa?” Her French tutor was rapping her fingers on the desk.  _ “Faites attention!” _

Tessa focused back out of her thoughts.  _ “Oui, madame la enseignante.” _

_ “Récitez, s’il vous plait, un des sonnets par Louise Labé, qui vous venez d’apprendre par coeur,”  _ requested the tutor. Tessa thought for a moment and began to recite:

_ “Je vis, je meurs. Je me brûle et me noie; j’ai chaud extrême en endurant froidure…” _

 

She was consumed by heat. She tried to escape it, but her pleasantly warm bedroom suddenly turned oppressively hot, and she twisted out of her bed covers. Without warning, Scott appeared, and held out Janet’s Eye to her. 

“Take it, Tess, it’s going to heal you,” he asked her, but as soon as she closed her fingers around the ring, she grew even hotter. She wanted ice. Icy water to drink. To plunge into.

“Scott, take away the ring. I want ice, give me ice,” she pleaded with him, shaking her head and trying to give it back to him.

“Tess, it’s all right, you’re fine. I’m here, Tessa. Tessa!”

She jolted awake and the first thing she saw was not Scott, but Jordan’s terrified face. She felt her little sister’s cheeks.

“Jesus, Tess, you’re on fire! Help! Someone!” Jordan leapt to the door and threw it open, shouting to everybody and nobody. 

“Jo, I’m so hot,” Tessa whispered, “I’m so…” A powerful outburst of coughing prevented her from speaking on. Then, she was being carried, and so much was happening, and she was swept away into delirium, something that had her mind whirling.

For more than a week she was feeble and pitiful, either tossing and turning with fever, or shivering from a violent chill. Somewhere in between her unconsciousness, she stopped begging for ice and cold water and started to just call for Scott. She wanted Scott and she had no idea why, but if he wasn’t coming to her soon, she was going to  _ die.  _

“Scott...please...where is he?” she begged the doctor and Alma, who were trying to take her temperature and give her medicine.

“Sweetie, Scott has to stay away. We didn’t want him to contract the illness,” Alma told her helplessly.

“Please,” Tessa whispered, almost inaudibly. “I want him to be here.” Hot tears of despair and the raging fever slid out of her eyes. 

And Scott finally was there, some time later. 

No one said anything to him against going to Tessa’s room. Everyone was preoccupied: the still-healthy Jordan was rapidly evacuated from the shared bedroom, and the whole family was trying to stop the trail of illness from spreading all over Ilderton.

“Tutu,” he said worriedly. It was as if she was hearing his voice through a tunnel. “I’m right here, kiddo. You’ll be alright. I promise.”

“Scott…” she whimpered. It hurt to look at him, so she closed her unbearably heavy eyelids. The only thing she felt was his hand tenderly smoothing back her damp hair. The cool touch soothed her burning forehead.

“I’m here. What do you need? Water, maybe?”

“No. No water. Just stay,” she managed to whisper from her parched throat.

 

And Scott stayed. He stayed when she moaned at night in her fever-laden dreams, and was there to comfort her when she woke up. He didn’t flinch when she threw up the spoonful or so of the soup that Alma tried to cajole her into eating, but instead rubbed her back when she heaved miserably into a bucket. 

She didn’t notice him crying quietly when she calmed down, tormented by the fear that she can...No, he scolded himself, he won’t even  _ think  _ about it. So the only thing he was able to do for her was stay with her. And hope.

 

Tessa blinked her eyes open and was astonished to realize that her sight or head didn’t hurt anymore. She tried to move her limbs in her lying position - her arms and legs weren’t weighted down by invisible burdens. 

‘Welcome back, Lady Tessa.” The words were flippant but the tone was drenched in relief.

Scott? In her bedroom? The whole situation came back to her: her fever, the faces of the doctor and Alma and Scott himself, hovering anxiously above her. She swallowed. The sore throat was back to normal.

“Was I sick?”

Scott’s eyes were oddly red, like he had done a lot of crying. “You had the influenza.”

Her eyes flew open completely. “Who else has it?” She tried to struggle up to a seat.

“Wait, wait. Don’t sit up yet, Tess. You lost a lot of strength over the past week. And gave everyone a hell of a scare, silly girl.” A pat on her shoulder. Was he deliberately trying to distract her from asking who else got sick?

“Scott,  _ tell me. _ ”

He sighed heavily, smoothing his palm over her bedspread. “My parents did, and Danny. A few of the other staff, too. Nearly half of the soldiers from the hospital room died.”

Tessa was mutely trying to process the alarming information. “And..? How are your parents and Danny?”

His face brightened somewhat. “They recovered for the most part right now,” he said, squeezing her hands to reassure her. Tessa exhaled, but then, Scott frowned and coughed softly, when he was about to say something else.

“Scott! Are you sure  _ you’re  _ not - ”

“Jesus, no. I’ve just had some dust stuck in my throat. It’ll pass. Now, excuse me, but I have to go finish some work. Be a good sport and don’t get into trouble,” he said, getting up. 

A wink, another hand squeeze, and he walked out. 

“That’s ‘milady’ to you, ruffian!” she called after him, and the traces of his laughter down the hall made her feel lighter than she had in a long time.

 

Two days after, Tessa didn’t see Scott. The doctor came to her instead of him, and informed her that she was now fully recovered and could stand up and even leave her bedroom, except he reiterated that she was not to go near the hospital chamber. She went about her business and even contemplated to catch up on schoolwork, but decided against it. She was relieved to see Alma and Joe and Danny working as normal, even if they looked a bit tired and put-upon with the effects of their illness. And yet, she had to go confirm that Scott was fine, because she had seen a strange thing: during the day, Alma suddenly left all her duties and set out back to the cottage.

Terrifying assumptions barged into her head, and she sprinted back to her room to bundle herself in outside clothing. Then, caught up with Danny in the hallway.

“Stop and come here!” It was the first time she’d spoken so sharply to one of them, but desperate times, and all that. 

For a second Danny looked like he wanted to bolt away from her. “Yes?”

She approached him, on shaking legs, and looked him in the face. “Tell me the truth right now, if Scott is sick,” she demanded.

Danny shifted from foot to foot. “Why would you think so?” But the way he was hiding his eyes told Tessa everything.

“Your mother just left to your house. I know you’re keeping him there.”

“No, but Tessa, he’ll be alright, he -”

Tessa pushed past Danny and his attempts at reassurance. She had a cottage to go to, and she did, growing colder with fear, and not at all winter air, by the step.

_ Scott was sick. And it was her fault. _

 

“Tessie, darling, you can’t be here!” Alma pleaded, as soon as she opened the door.

“I can and I will be, until Scott is better. Where is he?” Tessa didn’t bother with manners, kicking off her boots and hanging her coat carelessly, ready to search for the one person she came to see. 

“Tessa, your parents will be very angry to know that you came here so soon after having recovered,” Alma childed her. And Tessa grew  _ incensed. _

“I don’t care, with all due respect to them and you, what they will say. I’m angry too, Mrs. Moir. Scott is my friend, and no one has the right to keep me from him. So I am going to him, and please show me to his room.” Though she already knew where the room was. Alma had no choice but to follow despondently.

The sight in the dimly lit, curtained room made Tessa’s heart plummet.

She heard Scott even before seeing him. He sounded like every breath was an agonizing effort, his chest heaving, and his inhales and exhales hoarse. Tessa inched her way closer to the bed, and could see how ghostly pale he was. His hair was darker than before, sweaty and sticking in little wisps to his forehead. Unexpectedly, his lips moved, and he frowned.

Alma was getting ready to approach him with a glass of water. But Tessa saw he was trying to say something, so she cautiously perched herself near him on a footstool, and leaned as close as she dared.

“Tess,” he breathed, “kiddo.” So he had been calling for her. Tessa put a trembling hand on his forehead, just like he did onto hers during her illness. 

“I’m...I’m here, Scott. It’s Tess,” she told him, as hoarsely as if she was still sick. She could only watch as he drifted off to an uneasy sleep.

That evening, Alma and Joe had to intervene and get Kate and Jim, because Tessa looked ready to fight for her place near Scott’s bed. No pleas, or arguments, or fears for her own health could sway her.

“If needed, then I will make myself a bed right here on the floor. I don’t care about getting sick, and if it means I will  _ die _ right here near him, then such is my fate. I’m his friend. I  _ have  _ to be here,” Tessa enunciated, staring her parents and Scott’s boldly in the face. Fourteen going on forty, thought the four shocked adults, and capitulated.

Worst of all, Scott did not get better. He didn’t even wake up, except a half-conscious attempt or two to at least make him drink water. 

Tessa herself had maybe a mouthful of bread those few days. She lived in the Moirs’ cottage, helping Alma in everything, silently and relentlessly. And Scott grew weaker by the day.

“Scott,” Tessa whispered on the third evening, swallowing half her tears and letting the other half drop to her lap. “Please, wake up. We’ve so much to do. You have to help me learn how to drive Papa’s automobile, and teach me your famous trick at cards. I haven’t shown you my latest sketches, that I did before this damned influenza. Please. You just have to wake up, because…” Her breath hitched and she whispered on, “because I’ll lose my mind if you don’t.”

Alma and Joe entered then, with a third man that looked like a priest. They brought a Catholic priest with them. What for?!

“No.”

Tessa wouldn’t have recognized her own voice, but it was the least of her concerns. She stared at Joe and Alma unbelievably. Were they implying that Scott - 

“Tessie, honey, if it doesn’t help him, it won’t harm him either.” But Tessa felt her head shake  _ no no no,  _ more vehemently by the second. She was from an Anglican family, but she knew what it meant when Catholics brought the priest to the sickbed of a person. And she wouldn’t have it.

“I’m not letting you give him your rites, or whatever they’re called! He’s going to be well, you will see! Can’t you see it?” She took turns hissing the words, and begging with the adults.

“Tessa, child,” Joe tried to cajole her, “please let the father give Scott the Host.”

“ _ I  _ am Scott’s host, right now,” she cut him off. “And he is  _ not  _ dying, do you all hear me? He. Is.  _ NOT.  _ Dying!”

In the end, a hysterical Tessa remained sitting near the bed, while the priest quickly poured the Communion into Scott’s uncooperative mouth. Her fit of despair was subdued now, and she cried quietly, not looking at whatever they were doing with her friend. Joe had seen the priest off, at last, and took Alma to the living room, to give the aggrieved mother a tea and calm her own nerves. Tessa remained with Scott.

“Please, I’m begging you,” she started over, between sobs. “I know you’re going to live. I won’t let you die, and they can bring a hundred more priests. You wouldn’t dare do that to me, would you? You said before that we’ll live a long and happy life, and what of those words?”

Half-blind from the tears, she leaned up to put her lips to his cheek. “I’d give everything for you to open your eyes. My books, my clothes. I’d give up  _ Ilderton.  _ Believe me, Scott, I would.” She stroked his hair softly. “Wake up, please. We’re all waiting for you to come back. I’m waiting for you, every single minute…”

 

She had the oddest sensation upon waking up the next morning. It appeared that she wasn’t in her own room, and, what surprised her more, she wasn’t alone in bed. Just like that, the events of the past night returned to her, and she held her breath, peering up to discern whose body she was curled around. It was Scott, and, from the way his heart beat steadily, she felt the weight of fear melt off her chest. 

Scott was alive. Her friend,  _ her Scott  _ was alive. He survived.

A laugh mingled with a sob escaped Tessa’s mouth, and she scrambled up to sit. She touched his head, his hands, and he was alive, alive,  _ alive. _ He must have felt her near him, and so blinked his eyes open, at long last.

“Hey, Tutu! How long was I sleeping for?” Before she could react, he was very gingerly moving to sit up. 

His confused but no longer delirious look had a smile somewhere in it, and Tessa choked on another sob. She threw herself against his chest and cried like she hadn’t even while he lay feverish.

“You...complete...idiot...I thought you were going to  _ die _ ...you big  _ sleeper _ …”

A soft laugh rumbled from inside his chest and his arms tightened around her. When she looked back at him, through her tears, he was grinning like the Scott of old, like there was no terrible illness at all.

“Well, we hadn’t lived a long and happy life yet, did we, T?”

“You’re horrible,” she cackled, shaking her head. A signature Scott Moir wink was her reply.

She’d be damned if their long and happy life wasn’t still before them.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stories about the Virtue ancestors are all fictional and created by me, but, as we know, the stories about the origin of the Moir family are mostly based on true facts. I based my retelling of the early Moirs/Mores on the Wikipedia page about Scott's last name. Then, I couldn't resist throwing in the supernatural/legend bit of my own creation about the Moir family ring ;) As for the Spanish influenza of the 1910s, it really did happen (and not everyone who got sick became vampires later)


	9. Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> This chapter gives Jordan a lot of attention, which I hope is okay, because her subplot will relate to Tessa's over the course of this fic. However, here I still focus on Tessa and of course Scott, especially as they two begin to...shall we say...realize new things about each other ;)
> 
> Happy reading, and please leave comments!

_ January 1918 _

Scott didn’t understand what was happening to him lately.

After having received the scare of his life near Tessa’s sickbed, he found himself wanting to take care of her and protect her at all times. He’d always assumed that this impulse was wholly friendly and even fraternal. They’d been friends since the cradle, literally - his earliest memories were of a roly-poly infant Tessa, in his own baby bed in his parents’ home, giggling in her tiny voice when he talked what must have been toddler gibberish to her. He’d held her hand when she took her first shaky steps on her own, clapping and cheering when she succeeded. He helped her learn the alphabet, just as he had begun to sound out simple words on paper. They’d climbed trees, picked wild strawberries, and flew kites; and he sponged Tessa’s scrapes with water after such adventures got out of hand a bit, just like she quietly repaired the small rips on his shirts and trousers, before his mother noticed. She balanced his rashness and energy with quietness and even temper, just like he coaxed her out of shyness by swaying her to more boisterous pastimes between their school assignments and his work. They had long since became close friends, even as Scott grew older and acquainted himself with other working boys from the neighboring manor, Patrick Chan and Charlie White. His friendship with Tessa was simply  _ different  _ than his roughhousing with the boys, and he told himself it wasn’t because she was a girl and a lady. When the least meaningful or interesting thing happened in his life, it was Tessa he wanted to share it with right away, not Patrick or Charlie. He’d figured it was because he had more opportunities to interact with Tess every day. 

Conversely, there was the issue of other girls. At last summer’s fair, where he was admitted for the first time, he’d felt the increasing interest of flirty servant girls towards him, and he’d be lying if he said he was completely indifferent to the attention. In one compartment in his brain were these girls, chattering sparrows that flitted from man to man without a care in the world. In the other box resided Tessa, whose presence in his life could never be overshadowed by the groups of girls with whom he had casual and flippant interactions.

Chances were, he would continue on like this, thinking of Tess as his friend, if it weren’t for an occasion, right after they were recovered from their illness. 

“Scotty, I need to talk to you about something.” 

His Ma was uncharacteristically serious. It was when he and Tessa finally parted, as she left back home. He felt lighter and fresher than he had in almost a week, and he attributed it largely to Tessa’s presence near him. It simply felt  _ good  _ that someone cared about him outside of his family, though his parents and brothers mattered to him immensely. 

He’d hugged her goodbye as was their habit, grateful to no end to have her alive and well again. When, briefly, he rested his chin on her shoulder, he caught a waft of some purely girlish fragrance on her. Shampoo? Soap? He knew her parents would not allow her to wear perfume at fourteen; not even the future debutante Jordan owned any yet. Tessa smelled like summer, like strawberries. In the middle of winter. Scott found it disconcerting and novel, and yet it made hugging her especially comforting. What had he done, then, that was wrong? He couldn’t puzzle it out.

“I’d like to talk to you about Lady Tessa,” said Alma, looking at him closely. Scott already felt like a troublemaking seven year-old under her scrutiny. Not for the first time, he had the impression that Ma was secretly a mind reader.

“What about her?” he blurted out. 

“I have some things to say to you about your...relationship. You should treat her as gentlemanly and as courteously as possible,” his mother said. “No less than the lady she is.”

That surprised Scott. “I’d never treat her as anything but, Ma,” he argued. “You know I’d never dream to disrespect, much less harm her on purpose.” And he still didn’t understand where his mother was leading. Wasn’t it obvious that Tessa and he were the best of friends, and their respect was only mutual?

Alma looked a bit uncomfortable, and like she was contemplating whether to speak on or not. “Well, you’re quite... _ free _ with your gestures. I am not saying you should distance yourself from her artificially, but the hugs and touches should be dealt out with moderation,” she said, carefully. 

“So  _ hugging  _ Tessa is inappropriate?” Scott was aghast. Inadvertently, he pushed his chair away from the table and his plate with his unfinished dinner, and glared at his mother. “I never had any ulterior motives with it, and, as a matter of fact, I’d rather die than coerce her into something she’s uncomfortable with, or what she doesn’t welcome. She’s initiating lots herself, just so you know.” 

He’d sprung up and turned around, shaking his head. His always understanding and gentle Ma was acting inscrutable like some priggish preacher who sermoned about propriety. Alma, though, must have sensed that he was taking it his own way, and so hurried to smooth her words over.

“Son, I’m not saying expressing affection for your friend is a bad thing. Lord knows you’re always a very caring person, and that’s wonderful. But you have to remember, if many other people notice you, a young man, showing such signs of attention to a young lady with considerable frequency, they can interpret it in the most unpredictable and negative manner - for her, first of all. You should try to be more careful, in order to not compromise her.”

“Can I at least keep talking to her?” 

The question was both sarcasm and a tiny sliver of worry. Scott was, after all, naturally intelligent, so by now he finally grasped the meaning behind this spontaneous conversation on etiquette: _Ma thought he had a_ _fancy for Tess._ And was trying to intervene to preserve her youngest charge’s reputation, if he revealed anything to that effect.

“Of course you can. None of this means, again, that you can’t be friends. But life is complicated, when you consider her and your backgrounds. One day, she’ll expected to find a marriage match, and if your friendship -” Alma hesitated, but collected herself. “If your friendship endures until then, it will be difficult to hide from public scrutiny and yes, even censure.” 

Bitterness rose in Scott’s throat, and he felt his shoulders sagging. “I know they want the girls to make brilliant aristocratic marriages,” he muttered. “And what of Lady Jordan, Ma? I know you’ve seen Danny mooning about her last year.” 

“That’s very different.” A glint of amusement appeared in her eye. “Lady Jordan’s a sensible girl, and Danny knows better than to make his passing admiration into more than it is.”

_ True,  _ Scott agreed silently. It took one nonchalant, “You’re so helpful, dearie,” from Jordan to Danny, when he was helping her and her shopping bags out of the motorcar, for him to abandon his innocent dreams of her. He’d been quite down low about it, complaining that she wasn’t taking him seriously. Charlie and Scott had received strict instructions from Alma not to tease their upset brother for a week, after which Scott spied him canoodling with a scullery girl in the Virtues’ park on a Sunday, as a sign that his heartbreak had been brief. 

Right this moment, as Scott recalled the situation, he’d had the sudden and unbidden image of  _ himself  _ kissing  _ Tessa _ , and it was disconcerting and (he buried the thought as fast as it surfaced) shockingly intriguing. If that were to happen, in the most far-fetched way, would she go along with it, or would she get angry and tell him off? Or worse, slap him and run away in tears, to never speak to him again?

“Scotty? Do you agree with me, son?”

Gone was sweet-natured Ma once more; back was the sensible housekeeper and watcher of behavior, Mrs. Moir, looking at him and intending to hear a reply. Scott blinked back, and the image (thank Jesus his mother wasn’t an  _ actual  _ mind-reader) evaporated.

“Y-yes, Ma,” he said, awkwardly. “Yes, I agree. That is, no. There’s nothing like that between me and Lady Tessa. Nothing at all.”  _ But is there?  _ A small voice reiterated, somewhere in the back of his mind. “I promise to monitor my conduct with her very seriously,” he recited, like it was a maxim he had to learn by heart, desperate to squash this new annoying layer to his thinking of Tessa.

“I know you’re a smart boy, and so everything will be well,” Alma said jovially, patting his cheek.

She’d left the kitchen, leaving Scott to his musing. 

“And I,” he said softly to himself, “am not so sure of it…”

Thus, Alma Moir unknowingly kindled a not quite friendly type of interest in her youngest son where the younger Virtue was concerned. At first, he was met with an even more intense wish to simply be in her company. It was increasingly more difficult, as she was spending days engrossed in the planning of Jordan’s debut and didn’t come out for long when he invited her. 

“Although I don’t understand what the point is, since they won’t take me with them to London. I can’t appear at court until I’m out myself,” Tessa pointed out when he inquired about it. 

“But look at Charlie and Danny with all those boxes,” Scott snickered, gesturing to where his hapless brothers were carrying in Jordan’s newly purchased or made paraphernalia. “I don’t understand why you need several dozen boxes of thingamajigs just for a few days of celebration.”

Tessa sighed - in longing, Scott was quick to notice. “Most of that is only dresses. Visiting, day, evening, and, of course, the court dress. Do you know? I begged Mama to take me to Jo’s final  fitting at Lady Gordon’s, and she said she will! She told me, because I’m not going to be at the event itself, I should see Jo decked out.” Another dreamy sigh. “And in Lady Gordon’s atelier, no less. I wonder what sort of fashion will be current and what will be  _ passé  _ when my time comes. Though, Jo is beautiful. It would be hard to mix up an outfit for her. Not like my scrawny frame,” she said, eyeing herself ruefully. 

“Not scrawny, Tutu. You’re pretty, just like Jordan is in her own way.”

The words seemed to fly out on their own. Scott only registered it when met with Tessa’s blush and her glance back down, only with a smile. He was about to deflect with a light bantering comment, as he usually would, but she spoke faster.

“You think?” The reply was so quiet, he couldn’t discern her feelings about the compliment. He settled on surprised and pleased, in the end.

“I do think so. Don’t doubt that you are. You’ll be as successful a debutante as your sister,” he persuaded her. “And all your outfits will be lovely, never fear.”

“Jo told me as much, but she also jokes and calls me Willow, because I’m so thin.” In that sentence, Scott heard the remnants of self-doubt. “But I’m not even tall, though I am a wisp.  _ She’s _ the tall, poised, elegant one. She looks like a grown woman in her dresses, when most of my clothes are hand-me-downs from her, especially now, in the war.”

“That really doesn’t matter. Clothes don’t make the person, and you make a wonderful impression no matter what you wear. Added to that, you’re intelligent, funny, and kind to everyone. You’re just a splendid person, Tess.” 

That earned him a shy “Thank you” and a smile that made her cheeks pink. _She really is so pretty_ jumped to his mind, followed closely by _Snap the hell out of it, Scott, before it gets odd._ _Remember what you promised Ma._ But that didn’t change him discovering the serene loveliness in Tessa’s warm smiles and her eyes, so green and sparkling that he hardly even noticed how it became his favorite color.

 

At the beginning of the year, preparations for Jordan’s first season were well underway. She was getting more famous as one of Ilderton’s future debutantes, and as such, her parents told her to watch her behavior more closely. That didn’t prevent her from attending parties at the Davises’ every week, even if she pretended to tone it down, for her parents’ sake. She and Meryl both had beautiful new dresses for every next ‘soirée’ they attended together. Once, Tessa couldn’t help herself and praised Jordan’s dark pink ensemble. Touched by her sister’s compliment, Jordan whispered back, “I’ll tell you how it went later this night.”

Tessa waited all day for her return. It all played out in the usual scheme: when finally Jordan arrived, full of impressions of the ‘soirée,’ and fell into bed, Tessa jumped out of hers, in her long white nightgown. To give importance to everything she retold, Jordan always made an emphatic pause, and then began her stories.

“You know, Tess, today at the soirée, Meryl and I were very pretty. Everyone said I was the first beauty, and Meryl the second. It was so much fun there. We’d waltzed ever so many times, especially me. Want to know with whom?”

“With whom?” Tessa whispered in awe, to encourage further detail.

“With Fedor Andreev! He was shamelessly courting me all night, and I don’t think Meryl liked that. She kept looking at me so oddly, almost like she was angry. I’d never think she felt anything particular for Fedor, and I certainly don’t,” Jordan looked at her sister emphatically. “I don’t like him because he’s arrogant and thinks women are supposed to be the lesser of men. Though he does dance well, I hate to say. But he’d said such stupid things, that I won’t even bother anymore. Meryl can have him.”

Hearing this was concerning for Tessa. She knew that her outgoing and popular sister would be making a stir in no time. An unwanted suitor and a two-faced, spiteful rival in Meryl’s person was an explosive mixture, bound to blow up at the threat of the smallest spark.

“Everyone in Ilderton knows everything about each other. So it’s no secret that he likes you, because you’re beautiful and outspoken, and they all think you reciprocate,” Tessa pointed out cautiously.

“And it makes me mad like I can’t even say. Fedor had invited me to all the waltzes in advance - can you believe it? And I’d never dance with him again. You know what he said to me? That if a woman doesn’t spend her days serving her husband and having children, she’s not a woman, but an abnormality!” Jordan let out a derisive snort. “A transparent hint, my foot! If it were his way, we’d be wed right there in the middle of the dancing hall! I do think he’s never heard the word  _ no,  _ especially when you look at his dear mama’s coddling of his every desire. Who would want to be the subject of his ghastly stereotyping?”

Tessa said nothing. She felt so sorry for Jordan, because, once again, she fell prey to men’s selfish desires. Out of the many avaricious male attentions, Jordan had yet to single out a normal, respectful pretender for her hand. At least, that’s how their parents worried out loud. 

“And that’s just it,” Jordan carried on, like she read Tessa’s thought, “I’m not a person to him. I’m just a fun plaything with a pretty face that he can make his decorative wife and parade her around for everyone’s praise. But I won’t ever be in his company again, no. He makes me want to swear off men for life.” 

Tessa gasped at such a declaration. “Don’t say it in front of Papa, or he’ll tell you that you’ve been reading too many articles about the suffragettes, and that they made you  _ émancipée _ .”

“They hadn’t made me anything! For two years I’d toiled away as a nurse, not even suspecting that there was such a more useful endeavor. I wasted time in a position of service, even if it was for a good cause. And just yesterday, while I wasted more time dancing with this complete idiot, I realized what I want to do in life.”

“What do you mean?” Tessa asked anxiously. She wasn’t about to run away to London to band up with the suffragettes? Jordan looked at her, very seriously.

“I decided that I will pursue studies in the law.”

That was the least expected answer. Tessa, who was listening to her and reclining in bed, sat up, casting the covers off.

“But...why?”

“Because! I don’t want to spend my life giving birth in between meaningless calls and parties! I’ve enjoyed this festive guests-and-amusement scene, don’t get me wrong, but after marriage, I expect it will get so much more tedious. I want to set an example that the modern woman can be anything she wants, not just a cooped-up society matron. I’ve started thinking, all these women that are ridiculed and even persecuted, what if they’re on to something? What if laws need to change? What if we really  _ do  _ need all the things we’re not allowed to have, like more freedom in the home and elsewhere?”

Jordan grew increasingly agitated; she sprang up from bed and paced back and forth as she talked. Tessa watched her with wide eyes. She’d had the impression that Jordan cared for nothing  _ but  _ parties until this moment, and now she was seeing a completely different sister. What was even more odd, she found herself silently contemplating the words and even agreeing with them.

“I do want a husband, I think. Maybe not one from Ilderton, and certainly not milquetoast like Fedor,” Jordan went on. “I want a family, but I don’t want to be a second Mama, sitting and entertaining company day in, day out.”

“I thought Mama never wanted more than that,” Tessa offered timidly. 

“Of course not, because she never knew that she could have more.” Jordan got back into bed, sitting with her legs crossed. A silence passed. Then: 

“Do you think designing couture is a suitable occupation for a lady?” If Tessa were honest, the question had bothered her for a while now, and she was eager to hear someone else’s opinion - someone who she knew would not judge or ridicule her. 

Jordan raised her eyebrows in interest. “A good couturière is an important person to know and use the services of. You…” She narrowed her eyes and examined Tessa. “You don’t think of becoming one, do you?”

“Well, everyone praises my fashion sketches. The art teacher, even. And I do love fashion, I can sometimes guess what will be in style next, if I make an effort,” Tessa explained, believing more with every word that  _ this  _ was her most exciting idea. Really, it came to her entirely only now, in this conversation with Jordan. A fashion designer. She, Tessa Virtue of Ilderton, a revered and admired clothes artist. It was to  _ her  _ that people, women, would flock, like pilgrims to a holy site. Meanwhile, Jordan was smiling warmly at her suggestion.

“If that’s what you want to do, then I’m all support, little sister,” she took Tessa’s hand and squeezed affectionately. “You definitely should come along with Mama and I to Lady Gordon’s. See what the business is like firsthand.”

“But then...I can’t imagine how I’d go about it all. Women from our circle aren’t supposed to be much more than socializing ladies,” Tessa said, dubiously. 

“So what? Look - Jeanne Lanvin, Madeleine Vionnet, Coco Chanel, Lady Gordon herself, they’re all women, and all world-famous designers. These women made themselves.”

Tessa played with the edge of her sleeve, deep in thought. “But the first three are from France. French attitudes towards women are so liberal. I don’t know what I’d do were I to really start something like that and then be met with criticism.”

“I know you can succeed in anything you put your mind to, Tessa. I’m not your sister for nothing. I see you can persevere to the end. You just have to believe in yourself.” Jordan smiled again, and then, impulsively hugged her.

“Thank you,” Tessa said, genuinely grateful that she was so understood. “So what will  _ you _ do?” she asked, when Jordan lay back, yawning profusely. 

“First of all, I have to get the season out of the way. Then, I’ll start looking into solicitor education and the whole hullabaloo.”

An funny little thought occurred to Tessa then. “How perfectly it all might work out for you - an interesting line, and lots of fine gentlemen colleagues to choose from!”

Jordan gasped and sat up straight, sleep forgotten. “Why, you imp! You think I’ll be doing it strictly for male admiration? How low is your opinion of me!” 

And, without further ado, they began to pummel each other with pillows. The fits of giggles woke Kate, and she crept to the room to check what was happening. When she peered into the cracked-open door, peace and deep slumber was all she heard, only to change into muted laughter when her footsteps left.

 

Tessa was so abuzz with anticipation that she fidgeted the whole ride to Lady Gordon’s.

“One would think it’s your season, and not mine,” Jordan joked, although she herself was eager to see what the great designer had created for her, in its entirety. And at last, they were exiting in front of the atelier. Tessa’s knees were blatantly shaking, but Jordan rolled her eyes and ushered her in with, “Goodness, don’t be so  _ nervous _ , this isn’t the doctor’s, this is a boutique.”

Finally, they were inside. Tessa’s mouth fell open, in complete ignorance of every type of manners. The King himself could have been there at the moment, for her to never notice.

Rows and rows of spools and spools of fine fabric and lace. A chorus of melodiously clickety-clucking sewing machines. Mannequins with pristinely finished outfits. A small army of girls that looked like maids or assistants in starched aprons and caps, moving about as noiselessly as fairies. Tessa didn’t say a word, taking the atmosphere in silently. She didn’t think she had felt such a sense of reverence even in church. She hardly composed herself when another person joined them, the most impressive of them all: Lady Lucy Duff-Gordon herself, tall and proud-postured, smiling in welcome under her wide-brimmed and fancy hat.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” she greeted. Kate and Jordan replied in kind, but Jordan had to nudge Tessa discreetly, and hiss, “Tessa!” for her to lose her trance and hurriedly dip a curtsy.

“Oh! Good- good afternoon, madam. Tessa, that is, Lady Tessa Virtue. ” she stammered a bit, praying that Lady Gordon won’t see her momentary lapse as impudence.

“And to what do I owe the presence of Ilderton Hall’s youngest mistress?” Lady Gordon inquired, surveying Tessa with obvious interest. She didn’t appear affronted.

“I was bold enough to decide to bring my younger daughter along today, Lady Lucy, because I thought Tessa might want to see Jordan’s court dress, as she won’t have such an opportunity in London, at the event,” Kate explained. 

Lady Gordon raised an eyebrow. “How charming,” she replied benignly. “Well - without further ado?” And gestured down into the depths of the atelier.

 

“That’s  _ glorious _ !” Jordan exclaimed, her gaze even wider than Tessa’s own had been at the start, as she appraised her reflection. “I...I truly don’t have other words. Everything is exactly as I dreamed of.”

If Tessa thought Jordan looked adult before, she hadn’t seen anything until that minute. Her dress, spotlessly white, with unpretentious embellishments, fit her immaculately. Her slender arms were highlighted in delicacy by evening gloves. The dress had a  _ train. _ For a moment, Tessa had to fight the urge to clap and jump up and down. Jordan  _ did _ look glorious. 

“That takes me right back to my own season,” Kate said, brushing some mist from under her eyes.

“You look brilliant, Jo,” Tessa murmured, smiling sincerely.

“Though...your shoes, dear…” Lady Gordon pursed her lips almost imperceptibly, and looked askance at Jordan’s satin-covered shoes. “I feel as though the diamond buckles are a bit much. What do you think, Lady Tessa?”

She wanted her opinion. This genius of thread and needle was _asking_ _what she thought._ For another instant, Tessa felt short of breath.

“I think...I think so,” she finally agreed, looking at the shoes herself, and willing herself not to blush like mad. “The gown is so detailed, that excessive embellishment on the footwear might distract the attention from it.” Tessa thought for a moment, then, growing confident, added, “As would an overly fancy headdress.” 

Something like excitement glinted in Lady Gordon’s eye at the word. Unexpectedly, she followed up with: “And what sort of decoration should there be on the bosom? Maybe these roses?” She held a cluster of pale pink silk rosebuds against Jordan’s decolletage.

“I, um, wouldn’t go with that decision. I mean, no further decorating is needed here, it seems. Jordan’s looks are strict and noble and mature. Roses and posies are for girls like me,” Tessa suggested, now almost losing all of her shyness. And smiled. 

_ She was being talked to like a seasoned fashion expert. Her thought mattered to SUCH a lady! _

Kate was looking at her younger now, with blatant astonishment, as, in fact, was Jordan. 

“Are you keen on fashion?” Lady Gordon inquired, looking straight at her. “I’ve rarely met people of such young age who have such a sharp eye for detail in clothing.”

“I’d rather say so, madam,” Tessa said, reverting a bit to timidity. “I like learning all about clothing. And...and sometimes, I sketch the  _ toilettes  _ of others that particularly appeal to me.”

“Then, a proposition that I have for your mother would particularly appeal to you. If you please, Lady Katherine,” Lady Gordon invited Kate to the office. “Why don’t we have a chat.”

As soon as the door closed, Jordan rounded in on her sister. “I had no  _ idea  _ you knew so much about clothes! How did you even learn all of that?” She sounded deeply impressed. “If I didn’t know you were my sister, I’d think you were some precocious genius of a designer. Were you purposefully trying to impress Lady Gordon?”

“Somewhat...yes, and no,” Tessa said. “I simply gave her my opinion, and I hope I made a good impression on her, too.” Which was both completely true and plausible, from the designer’s reaction.

Jordan clicked her tongue, shaking her head in mock scolding. “Tessie, Tessie...to be outrun at the start by your own sister in matters of career...Imagine if Lady Gordon herself mentored your work!”

The thought lifted Tessa on her toes. “Oh, that would be such a great joy for me. Speaking of, I wonder what she wanted to talk about with Mama.” Jordan shrugged, turning to and fro to examine herself closer.

“You still don’t think I should have the roses at the bosom?”

“I don’t,” Tessa said, winking at her, upon which they shared a laugh.

 

In three more weeks, Jordan and Kate and Jim departed to London. Kate just smiled mysteriously and told Tessa that she would find out what she and Lady Gordon talked about in due time, before they left. There was one significant advantage and one unexpected drawback to her parents’ and sister’s absence, though. The advantage was more time to spend with Scott. The drawback turned out to be Mrs. Moir’s behavior. She began to suddenly appear anywhere that Tessa and Scott were together, ostensibly working on something, yet Tessa could not shake the sensation of being observed. The purpose of such unexplained trailing behind them was unknown to her, but she figured it was for later contemplation.

“Damn,” said Scott, when she told him the whole story. “You must be on cloud nine that you captured the attention of such a lady. And I’m really happy for you. I’d always wanted to be the friend of a famous person,” he gave her a teasing fist bump on the arm. Tessa smiled, but sighed and grew serious again. 

“I don’t know, though. What if nothing much results from it? I imagine working such a position comes with challenges. What if Lady Gordon changes her mind in the future and doesn’t consider me to be promising anymore? Goodness, I’m a goose. She hadn’t even offered yet, and I’m pretending as though she really thought I was something...”

“She’ll do nothing of the sort, T,” Scott gently interrupted her anxious rambling. “I know that you’re so talented, you will reach her level of success sooner or later, if not surpass it.” A hint of mischief, as always, told her that he had a joke at the ready. “Though don’t forget about your old friend when you become world-class,” he laughed, to which, of course, she laughed as well.

His supportive words managed to give Tessa even more confidence that she has chosen well in terms of her possible occupation. She only just managed to convince herself that it was all his words, and  _ not at all  _ his warm hazel eyes.

So strange. To think that she did not even care to look deeply enough into his eyes before, to discern the color. But now she had.

What did that mean? Tessa couldn’t say for certain.

Strange.

 

Before long, Jordan made her triumphant return, or at least, Tessa was anticipating it as such. Instead, she met glowing parents and a very unnaturally rigid and monosyllabic sister. She pretended not to hear Tessa’s eager questioning about the presentation, brushing her off. 

Tessa’s first reaction was to be upset and hurt, not comprehending why her sister wouldn’t share the impressions of such an occasion with her. She did not know what to think, and resolved to find out for good as soon as possible. 

Tessa had settled into bed later that night, barely having muttered ‘Good night, Jordan’ in the general direction of her sister’s bed. She heard the same, mumbled in reply. In silence, both girls blew out their candles and darkness engulfed the room. Tessa let her mind wander nowhere in particular, until she felt the haze of sleep creeping up slowly on her. And then, a soft but distinct sniffling sound cut through her drowsiness.

She blinked, trying to focus. The sniffling continued, and she sat up to investigate, annoyed this time. To her complete surprise, Jordan had gotten out of bed and was standing by the window, looking outside. Tessa fought with herself for a moment or two, but then decided to go to her. Clearly, something had happened to Jordan, and she wasn’t just in a huff. 

“What is it, Jo?”

Sniffle. “Nothing.” Sniffle. 

“You mustn’t cry, then, if it’s nothing.”

Momentary silence.

“What was supposed to be one of the best days in my life went the devil knows where at the end.”

The anger and sadness in Jordan’s voice bewildered Tessa.

“Why? Oh, Jo, tell me what happened…” She touched Jordan’s shoulder, but the girl didn’t acknowledge the gesture, continuing to stare out the window.

“Happened! Tessa, I was humiliated!” The misery of her tone made Tessa afraid, but now, she listened without asking again.

“Mama and Papa had a reception planned the next day after the presentation. In fact, they invited the Davises, as near neighbors, even though those people aren’t peers and couldn’t arrive at court - nor could Meryl be presented. In all, I was prepared for it to be as amusing as always, but then Meryl received me with such frost that I hardly knew what to think. I don’t know, no one else noticed it, so I was anxious to find out what was wrong, and then Meryl pulled me aside and blurted out that half of Ilderton was talking about me.”

Tessa’s heart grew cold with foreboding. ‘Talking’ meant gossip, and by the sound of it, it was very bad for Jordan. She looked at her sister, with a mute question as to what exactly was rumored.

“She told me that Ryan Semple told her father he knew supposedly that I’ve spent one night with Fedor in Molly‘s Inn last month. And it’s nobody’s secret that Semple and Fedor are cut from the same cloth. Meryl hates me now, I’d think, because she believes that I had something with her  _ beloved _ . You remember how he was hanging onto me with all the dancing, even though I repeatedly hinted that I wasn’t interested in him at all.” A never-before heard bitterness seeped from Jordan’s voice. 

Tessa was stunned into silence, though she felt the blood rush angrily into her brain. She tried to process the confession.  _ How low of Meryl! _

“And how did you react?” she asked, as calmly as she was able to, in order to soothe Jordan.

Tears were once again flowing from Jordan’s eyes. “I was still as a stone, I couldn’t even react properly at first. I couldn’t believe that someone I trusted was sharing something like that about me, How to prove that it’s all lies, if even Mr. Davis and Countess Zueva themselves believe it? And I’m too proud to contradict or argue with them!”

“Semple’s a pig, he likes spreading filthy little stories like that because he himself engages in love affairs,” Tessa said, hotly. “The bad thing here is that Meryl is stupid enough to believe and pass it on.”

Jordan came away from the window and flopped inelegantly onto the bed. “I might have flown off the handle a bit. I-I sort of shouted at her, and I suppose I didn’t care who heard it. But it was so  _ humiliating _ , that she’d share such lies. I said to Meryl that she was inventing shameless accusations, and that if she called herself my friend, she shouldn’t believe anything Semple says. In reply, she accused me of ruining her family’s plans to engage her to Fedor. In fact, I wouldn’t want the Russian idiot if he came on a silver platter. But try telling Meryl that. Jesus, this shameful spectacle will kill me!” 

“To prove that it’s a fabrication, it’s enough to remember that Fedor couldn’t have even been in Ilderton last month, since for the past three months, he and his mother had been staying in London at a relative’s house.”

“Nobody wants to know they truth, they just want to spoil my reputation and paint me loose and flighty. Plus, it was known that Fedor has a liking towards one of the London-based actresses, and that she’s the object of his, shall we say, affections. But who cares about that when I’m an easy target?”

“Right,” said Tessa, resolute to pacify her sister, “the only way to fight rumor and injustice is to ignore it. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and vivacious, so they’re trying to lower your worth and compromise you to look better compared to you. Now, Meryl is rejoicing, because you’re crying!”   
“People are so traitorous! I hate them!” Jordan moaned, burying her face in her drawn-up knees. “And Meryl! That stupid blind  _ cow _ , idolizing the Russian bonehead, hanging on to every word he says!”

“People are people, and you can’t change them. It will be like this always, because nature has given much to you, and little to them, and they are angry about it.”

Tessa embraced her sister. Quietness settled back into their room.

“Jo, I’d been waiting for your return, and you didn’t say a word about the reception in the palace.”

Jordan didn’t cry anymore. The idea that Meryl could gloat at her pain so shocked her, that she grew full of a stubborn wish to rebel against it, one way or another. Regardless of what happened, her presentation had been spectacular.

“...And you know, Tess, just when we entered the palace, I was overwhelmed with how luxurious it was, and I could barely walk - just like you in Lady Gordon’s atelier, but even worse! So we queued up in order to the throne hall, and I’ve had such nerves I had to keep telling myself not to faint. I’m so glad Mama was there to present me, because I don’t know, I would have been stuck dead and not able to move.”

Jordan forgot all about her woes, getting more enthusiastic in telling the story, and Tessa listened with increasing rapture, after every word.

“I regretted that my last name started with a letter in the end of the alphabet sequence, because by the time my turn came, I was truly near swooning. And then the announcer gives our card to the other assistant, and calls out, “ _ The Countess of Ilderton presents Lady Jordan Virtue! _ ” God, Tess, I don’t even know how I managed to go there and give my bow with Mama behind me, and with the King and Queen and the Prince of Wales all looking right at me, but in a minute or two, that was done, and I was able to breathe freely.”

“Incredible,” Tessa murmured dreamily.

“The reception afterwards was quite the feast. And, you know, the reasons we just discussed did sour it a bit, but Mama and Papa introduced me to a certain  _ someone _ .” Here, Jordan faltered, and a blush stained her cheeks. “It was…” she purposefully stalled, so Tessa’s curiosity would be heated up. “The Marquess of Dorset!”

“Oh, Jesus, a  _ real  _ marquess?” Tessa felt her eyes widen.

“Yes! I mean, he looked very young indeed, and it turned out, as Papa said later, he is only nineteen. He was the younger son of the late Marquess, and his mother the Dowager Marchioness could not attend, because she was unwell at the time.”

“I wonder why the older son couldn’t be Marquess.”

Jordan shrugged. “Who knows. Anyhow, the Marquess was courteous and very kind, and he seemed a bit shy even, actually. And what’s more, Mama and Papa said that they will arrange for the Marquess and his mother to visit Ilderton. Papa had told me that he was an acquaintance of the late Marquess, so the visit would be a friendly one.”

It occurred to Tessa that whatever Papa said, there were other reasons behind this invitation; namely, so the nineteen year-old Marquess and the seventeen year-old, newly presented Jordan could spend time together and potentially grow a connection.

“How did you find the Marquess to be?” she asked Jordan, impulsively.

“Well, as I said, very respectful and kind, and he was a wonderful dancer. The  _ complete  _ opposite of that rake Fedor, believe me,” her sister huffed. “Why do you ask?”

“Just out of curiosity,” Tessa hastened to persuade her. 

The sisters talked well into the night. When Tessa fell asleep, she had the most surprising dream. In it, a handsome gentleman in a morning suit asked her to dance, right in the middle of what looked like a palace ballroom. She’d taken his hand, only to realize that the man’s face, eyes, smile, were those of Scott. Upon waking up, she was torn with characterizing the dream as either strange or pleasant, and, to her complete astonishment, she saw in her mirror’s reflection that she was smiling.

For the first time in the morning, she told Jordan that she didn’t remember what she dreamed about.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of extra info about some historical terms and people:
> 
> 1) Lucy, Lady Duff-Gordon (1863-1935): a prominent British designer of women's clothing, who made fashion shows and less restrictive corsets popular, as well as specializing in lingerie and evening dresses.  
> 2) Jeanne Lanvin (1867-1946): a French haute couture designer. Madeleine Vionnet (1876-1975): a French designer who specialized in bias-cut dresses.   
> 3) Jordan wants to study to become a 'solicitor,' which is one of the terms for 'lawyer' (this is another place where I might tweak reality, because I have no idea if women were admitted to such an education and position in the 1910s and 1920s. Let's just pretend like they did. More on this later!)  
> 4) At her presentation, Jordan is introduced to someone called a marquess. Marquess is a higher rank than earl, and the only ranks from there until that of a king are duke and prince. I named him Marquess of Dorset, because there was a real historical marquessate of Dorset in the past in England, and I just liked the sound of it :p


	10. Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One part wooing of Jordan, one part of Tessa's slow coming-of-age, and one part of Tessa's continued learning of new things where both life and Scott is concerned.

_ March 1918 _

Some time after their return from London, Tessa’s parents informed her that they will be enrolling her in a school. Her first reaction was alarm.

“Am I not making good progress with my tutors?” she asked, glancing from Papa to Mama.  _ So strange. She’d always been praised for her cleverness and quick grasp in all subjects. All but math, actually, but still...How bad was she truly doing in schoolwork for her parents to decide to enroll her in a _ school? _ Did she need quite so much extra help? _

Mama and Papa were both smiling, and her worry dissipated a fraction. “Nothing is wrong, dear. It’s just time for you to attend the young ladies’ lyceum,” said Kate.

Namely, the Lauzon Lyceum, possibly the most prestigious local establishment. Tessa knew of Marie-France Dubreuil Lauzon, the headmistress. Her husband Patrice Lauzon was the headmaster of the general public school, which Scott himself had finished. Marie-France, however, specialized in the instruction of girls who were on the brink of adolescence, that is, a few years away from their first season. Jordan also had finished the school, with honors. 

Jim added, “Besides, you will be learning subjects that you would have some challenge with studying on your own, such as dancing. The most important thing for a young lady of our circle is to be able to present a good and admirable image of herself.”

“But where  _ is  _ this lyceum? I wouldn’t have to move anywhere, would I?”

The thought worried Tessa most of all. It never occurred to her to ask Jordan where she’d been going several times a week, and her sister wasn’t terribly involved with education, unless she was challenged. Tessa, too, wasn’t burning with desire to relocate and leave Ilderton behind.  _ And Scott, and their adventures together,  _ suggested one of her thoughts, giving her momentary pause. 

“No, moving isn’t required. The lyceum is just outside Ilderton - no further than a short drive in an automobile. Wheeler will drive you there and back, as needed.”   
Tessa nodded, with no small amount of relief. “And do you know who else will be in my class when -”

A soft knock on the door interrupted them. “Pardon me,” said Alma, who had poked her head in. “I only want to notify you that the maid for Lady Tessa had arrived five minutes ago. What should I do with her?”

_ A maid? For her personally? _

Tessa had no time for questions, before Papa said, “Wonderful. Please bring the girl here, so we might acquaint ourselves.” He turned to Tessa. “You’re near fifteen, which means that you are a young lady almost of age, and, therefore, should have the services of your own individual chambermaid, just like a grown woman.”

In a few more minutes, Alma was back and ushering in a girl, roughly of Tessa’s own age. She appeared nervous, but was clearly masking it as best as she could. The girl spoke, and her voice was steady, in contrast to her demeanor. “Good morning, my lord, my lady,” sketching them a curtsy.

“What is your name?” Jim asked.

“Rachel Brown, sir.”

Tessa noticed she looked very thin, and her dress was heavily mended. Perhaps she came out of substantial poverty.

“Do you have any relation to Mr. Brown, the town butcher?” Kate inquired. For a moment, Tessa saw the girl fight back incoming tears, but she took control of herself with lightning speed.

“Rachel is his only child, madam,” Alma put in, placing a gentle hand onto her shoulder. “Her parents and younger siblings all succumbed to the influenza epidemic.”

“Poor dear,” Kate murmured, clearly sympathizing with the girl. Jim sighed ruefully, shaking his head.

“And how old are you, child?”

“Fifteen years in two months’ time, Your Lordship,” said Rachel. 

“Good. That’s good. So, Lady Katherine and I will leave you to introduce yourself to your new mistress, Lady Tessa - my younger daughter,” Jim said, indicating Tessa, to whom Rachel bobbed a curtsy as well, though she appeared much less anxious.

Jim and Kate left, and Tessa remained standing across from Rachel. After a half-awkward moment, she offered, “Shall we sit?”

“If you like, m’lady,” Rachel replied, with visible trepidation. Tessa walked over to the library couch, and she followed, but did not sit down until Tessa got herself situated first.

“So...this is Ilderton Hall, Rachel. I hope you will have a good time working here,” Tessa started, feeling as nervous as she saw Rachel being at the beginning. Rachel, who was surveying the library shelves with curious admiration, moved her eyes back to her.

“I’ve never been anywhere half as grand as here,” she admitted. “But my aunt herself has many children, and it’s hard for her and her husband to keep me living with them, so I could hardly wait to turn fourteen and start working. Your parents were exceedingly good to board me here.”

“I’m so sorry about  _ your _ parents,” Tessa murmured, her heart genuinely hurting for the orphan. Rachel sighed, looking to her lap for a second.

“That’s fine. In the sense that servant people like me shouldn’t waste time mourning. I’ll be reunited with them in time, m’lady. I need to dwell on the positive that surrounds me now.”

“Oh, that’s another thing,” Tessa hastened to tell her. “You must know that this is the first time I’m having a personal maid, so we’ll learn together. And for that matter, when it’s just you and I, don’t feel pressured to call me ‘lady’ or anything; just call me ‘Tessa.’” Rachel’s gray eyes opened wider with surprise. “I want to be friends with you, over time, and not put on artificial airs.”

“But, m’lady- it’s not fitting for me to take such liberty. If sir or madam hear about it, they will turn me outdoors faster than a snap,” she faltered. Tessa smiled kindly, leaning closer to reassure her.

“I promise you that neither of them will say a bad word to you, not while I’m in this house myself. And Mama and Papa are the good sort. They treat the staff like people, not like objects.” At that, Rachel appeared to have gained more confidence.

“Thank you ever so much. I do promise to try...Tessa.” The girls smiled at each other. Tessa could truly see herself becoming friends with this girl, even though she was in the subservient position.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t even know what sorts of things I’d ask of you,” she found herself sharing. She tried to remember what Jordan had her own maid do. The woman arranged her hair, helped her with her clothes in the mornings and evenings, and ran small errands for her. 

“I can help you with your hair and your clothing,” Rachel offered, as if reading her mind. “I’ll not pretend to any expertise, but I am prepared for the most part where maidwork is concerned.”

“That sounds lovely,” Tessa returned, definitely appreciative. “Especially with my bothersome long hair and that  _ damnable _ corset that I  _ still  _ have to wear,” she grimaced, to which Rachel giggled, equally amused and horrified.

“What’s so shocking?” Tessa rolled her eyes. “Unless of course you don’t want to handle that.”

“No, it’s just you used such a strong word, and I didn’t expect it of you,” Rachel said, still smiling with a trace of embarrassment. Tessa blushed.

“Oh! Goodness, I didn’t even notice. That must be Scott’s doing,” she stammered. “He likes to insert sundry little indecent words into conversation. But Scott’s a good chap. That is, Scott Moir. One of the footmen-in-training. And my friend,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Is he Mrs. Moir’s son?”

“Yes. Not only he, but also his older brothers. And Mr. Moir is our butler.” Rachel nodded in wonder.

“Your family really is something, to have another whole clan working for them.”

“Eh, just like any other,” Tessa ducked her head, suddenly feeling bashful. 

“But you’d called this Scott your friend?” Rachel clarified. Tessa saw her interest in the subject, and had no choice but to affirm. She couldn’t decide why she suddenly felt less comfortable discussing Scott with her new maid. The description  _ private  _ popped into her mind quite randomly.

“Yes, well...my older sister and I were always raised as companions to the Moir brothers. It was only logical that we became friends.” Tessa fidgeted and began to pluck at a button on her blouse. She wished they didn’t talk about this anymore. She felt a strange sort of... _ something  _ at the mere thought of her, as she called him, friend. 

“Ah, is the other young lady in the house your sister? I’ve seen her in the hallway today - she was in the most delightful walking dress,” Rachel enthused, unwittingly changing the subject. Tessa could have hugged her.

“That’s Jordan, it is. She’s a lovely person, too, and a blessing of a sister to me. Do you know, she’s already out, and her first season was this winter…”

“My word! That sounds quite like an event!” 

They carried on for some time, and Tessa was relieved to have gotten off on such a right footing with this newcomer.

 

If only it was like that with other people she knew.

Tessa and obviously Jordan now avoided the Davises as much as possible. Only once, when Jordan accompanied Tessa to the tearoom after an outing to the shops, Tessa spied Meryl with her parents and Marina Zueva two tables over. Jordan’s eye strayed there too, and she was unnaturally and pointedly animated the rest of their time there. When Jordan went to the counter to buy some pastries for their parents back home, Meryl approached Tessa, who examined a painting on the wall and had to force herself to remain calm. Looking preoccupied, Meryl whispered to her that she heard from numerous witnesses that last week, Jordan had gone by train to London to a private hospital, in order to eliminate the consequences of her rumored happy night at the inn with Fedor. Tessa said absolutely nothing, staring her in the eyes as venomously as she knew how, and Meryl jumped away from her, as if she was burned.  _ Poor Jordan!  _

If Mama knew anything, she’d have a heart attack, and Papa would strangle Fedor with his bare hands. Tessa’s heart broke for her talented, innocent sister, whose only fault was being much more as a person, outward and inward, than her friend turned backstabber. She didn’t tell Jordan anything either, as not to further traumatize her, who was already upset over it all. Meanwhile, Jordan walked and talked the upcoming visit of the Marquess of Dorset and his mother, and wouldn’t be bothered to discuss many other topics. Tessa, too, became eager to meet the individual that so fascinated Jordan. Bizarrely enough, Jordan didn’t seem in love with the man, but the way she spoke of him painted him in a very favorable light. Then again, it was the specifics of her personality. When she liked someone, anything they did was likable to her; on the other hand, if someone was met with her dislike, she criticized every last thing about the person. 

The day of the visit dawned bright and warm, particularly for early April. Tessa saw that Jordan was on pins and needles the whole morning. She’d fanned out all her best dresses onto her bed and had a hard time choosing, when her gaze fell on Tessa, who had already quietly selected her own outfit.

“Can I ask your advice?”

“Of course, Jo,” Tessa agreed, readily walking over to the bed. “Let’s see what you have here.” Jordan picked up two dresses out of the multitude of colorful fabric.

“The yellow silk or the pink velvet?” she asked, holding both on either side of herself. Tessa deliberated, glancing between the dresses.

“The pink one. It’s going to look lovely against your dark hair.” Jordan brightened immediately.

“That is actually the one I was leaning towards. You’re brilliant, little sister,” she said, kissing Tessa on the cheek.

The next issue came up when it was time to do their hair. Tessa fixed her simple style with Rachel’s help, while Jordan spent the hour fretting, her hair loose on her shoulders, because their main and only hairdresser was working on Kate. 

“If you please, m’lady,” Rachel then said, a bit timidly, “I might help you, if your hairdresser is occupied.”

Jordan had some doubt in her expression. “Really?”

Tessa spoke up. “That’s a good idea, Jo. Rachel had been apprenticed at the hairdresser’s in town, in the past. She knows  _ heaps  _ about styling.” Though, judging from Rachel’s shy expression, she did not look as if she knew ‘heaps,’ but she said, “Allow me to offer you help, Lady Jordan.”

Ands she allowed, to Tessa’s implicit relief. Rachel’s work turned out to be quick and deft, and soon enough, Jordan was sporting an elegant style with soft ripples on either side of the face. She spent a second staring at herself in disbelief, then a slow smile spread across her face.

“How did you learn to do  _ that _ ?” Her fingers reached to delicately touch the waves of hair. “That looks like a silent film star!”

Rachel blushed, clearly not expecting a compliment. “I did my best. It was my pleasure to help.” Jordan was shaking her head, smirking at both her sister and the maid.

“My goodness. A fashion designer sister and a stellar hairdresser lady’s maid...I’ve fallen so far behind you in success, that I really will have no choice but to charm the Marquess now, or else I’ll lose all respect of myself,” she joked, and they all shared a laugh.

Later, Kate had graciously allowed Tessa to borrow her pearl stud earrings, and Tessa was excited to wear such mature jewelry. The earrings caused many disputes in the past between her and Jordan, and her older sister appeared a bit miffed.

“Don’t imagine much about it. It’s  _ me  _ who’s the focal point for the Marquess today,” she said, wagging a finger at Tessa.

“They might single  _ you  _ out, but he’ll be mine,” Tessa teased back.

“You don’t look like a woman yet,” Jordan snorted, passing her eyes over her sister’s outfit.

“If he likes me, he’ll wait for me.”

In truth, Tessa was only being facetious. Of course, she had no plans whatsoever to interfere in Jordan and the Marquess’s connection, if any resulted from today. An uncalled-for image of Scott’s upset, dejected expression came to her mind, after she told him she was choosing someone else to marry. Her own marriage, not as an abstract concept, but as a probable one, invaded her thoughts increasingly more those days. If Jordan, say, had the Marquess of Dorset, then who would she, Tessa have, in time? A conversation she had with her mother also came back to her.

_ “I won’t marry. Why couldn’t I just stay here in Ilderton all my life, taking care of you and Papa, and of the estate?” she argued. _

_ Kate sighed, seeing her daughter so stubborn. “That’s alright, but you might change your mind when you grow older.” _

_ “I won’t change my mind. I don’t even need a husband. I have a good friend, Scott, and that’s enough for me,” Tessa persisted. Her mother only sighed in response, and left her, with a pat on the shoulder and a “How young you still are, my sweet daughter.” _

Tessa was so deep in reflection that she didn’t even notice the aforementioned good friend appear near her, as if by a snap of fingers. She cleared the fog of mental images and blinked at him. As always, he was cheerful and upbeat.

“That’s a very lovely dress, T,” was his greeting. Tessa’s cheeks felt hot. For a strange moment, she found herself unable to meet his bright gaze.

“It’s Jordan’s old one. Not the first. But thank you,” she murmured, in the direction of her shoes. Gentle fingertips touched under her chin, coaxing her head back up.

“I do mean it, kiddo. Don’t have doubts about yourself,” Scott told her, his voice softer than she ever knew it to be. She trembled, both from his words and from the curious tingling warmth that settled all over her body at his innocent touch.  _ But was it really so? _

“Why...why are you saying such things?” she floundered, trying to keep her grasp on level-headedness. Scott paying her compliments wasn’t anything new, and yet this one that he just had said, it was...so different, in an unexplainable way. For the very first time, Tessa had a sharp awareness that her always outgoing and kind friend was a young man, and that she herself wasn’t just  _ Tess, T, kiddo,  _ but a young woman, the way everyone agreed she was.  _ How much was she expected to allow him at this point, and how much should she resist? _ If Tessa had to think on it, her brain leaned very heavily indeed  _ away  _ from the ‘resisting’ category. Scott, too, wasn’t doing anything scandalous. He was touching her, but in a friendly manner, wasn’t he? He was simply looking into her eyes with his warm, affectionate hazel ones - wait.  _ Affectionate?  _

The way he’d dropped his fingers from her face made her focus back to him. “I’m saying them because they’re true. Now, I’m sorry, but I have to hurry to the kitchen. Ma’s hell-bent on me being one of the waiters today,” he changed the point of the conversation abruptly, and started walking away. Tessa only watched. “Have fun at the dinner.” Scott was already turning in the direction of the kitchen, but stopped and winked. “And try not to fall in love with the Marquess.”

Tessa looked at him go, still feeling the echoes of that unfamiliar tingling in her insides.

“Don’t worry,” she spoke after him. “I definitely won’t fall in love.”

 

In a half hour, the Virtues, and their servants behind them, stood outside the estate’s main door, waiting for the Marquess’s automobile to pull up, any minute. Jordan fidgeted, in such uncharacteristic nervousness.

“Remember how you teased me about my anxiety in Lady Gordon’s?” Tessa chuckled. “I’m being a good sister, myself, and I won’t do the same to you now.”

“Thanks, Willow. I’ll never forget you that kindness,” Jordan rolled her eyes, but Tessa was glad to see her relax her steely posture.

A sudden shrill honk of a horn pierced the general anticipation. Almost right away, a big motorcar was entering the gates, its metal gleaming and obviously new. 

“I’ll be damned,” Scott’s voice mumbled, behind her. “That’s the Moose Jaw Standard. They cost about a soul to the devil apiece, from what I’ve heard, and there’s no more than twenty-some around the whole country.” The automobile buff that he was sounded seriously impressed, as far as Tessa saw, but she herself couldn’t wait to see the car’s passengers already.

It pulled to a stop, and the door was opening. A lithe, even a bit lanky, boy in a well-tailored suit jumped out, pausing at the side and holding his hand out respectfully. He helped a petite but graceful lady of around forty-five to the ground. Her expressive eyes immediately fell on the crowd of her receivers, and she smiled pleasantly. She wore the latest fashion for the visit dress, and seemed to radiate confidence and dignity. Tucking her arm under the boy’s, she approached them.

Jim stepped up to kiss the lady’s hand. “Pleased and honored to welcome you in Ilderton, Lady Edwina.” 

“As am I, Lord James, to be here,” she returned, smiling as before. “Now, do introduce me and my son to your darling girls.”

_ Son?  _ Tessa’s eyes strayed to the boy whom she honestly took for a footman at first - he was that young and, well, boyish. The demeanor was amplified by his sandy-blond curls and easy, open smile, even more than his mother’s.

Her father said, “May I present Lady Edwina Carey, the Dowager Marchioness of Dorset. Lady Edwina, these are my daughters, Jordan and Tessa.”

The girls made their reverence, under Lady Edwina’s approving look. “Now I see why your daughters are called the Ilderton Roses,” she commented. Jordan and Tessa gave her a modest smile. “You are that same Lady Jordan, who has made the best impressions on my son, at London’s season,” Edwina addressed Jordan, but also nudged the spoken-of son into action. He almost literally lit up.  _ Like a happy puppy dog,  _ Tessa thought, and had to do her best not to giggle.

“It’s my pleasure to have the privilege to see you once more, Lady Jordan,” he said, kissing her offered hand. Tessa instantly determined that he was deeply smitten already. No such signs in Jordan. Yet. Still, she appeared as content as he was.

“Likewise,” she said. Then came Tessa’s turn for introduction.

“Lord Carey, this is my younger daughter, Tessa.” Tessa curtsied.

“Michael Carey, Marquess of Dorset, at your service, Lady Tessa,” he told her. The boy, she observed (and she couldn’t help but call him so) though initially shy, did have impeccable manners.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord Marquess,” she said, happy to see that Jordan wasn’t lying when she praised his good qualities.

 

“Tell me, Lord Carey, there must be many challenges to governing an entire marquessate like yours?”

Dinner was progressing without any flaws. Jordan had been seated right across from Michael, and he blushed every time she smiled at him. The not quite eighteen year-old that she was wanted only one thing: to be liked, so she turned on all her charm.

“It it rather difficult, I would say,” he admitted outright. “I had no choice but to get the hang of things as I went along, when I came back from my studies, and after my father passed away.” Tessa was astonished to see that Michael didn’t look properly grievous, speaking about his late father. Briefly, she wondered why.

“And where did you study?” Jordan caught on, tilting her head, and all but batting her eyelashes.  _ That flirt. Have mercy on the poor lovesick boy,  _ Tessa thought, nearly giggling again.

“The- the marine school, Lady Jordan,” said Michael. “It’s a very good line to follow.”

Jordan herself did giggle. Jim shot her a look that she ignored. “Ah, you must love this sea of yours very much!”

“What I love, I love forever,” said the Marquess, smiling a bit more confidently back at her.  _ Was that a hint?  _ One would almost think he wanted to get married without leaving the table, Tessa observed. And she still didn’t see any special fondness in Jordan, outside of friendly curiosity. Added to which, one dinner together decided nothing at all.

“What do  _ you _ enjoy, Lady Jordan?” Edwina spoke up, looking at her closely, as if she wanted to determine whether Jordan would make a good daughter-in-law. 

“I love to read, my lady Marchioness,” Jordan declared, her head held high. “Especially things that discuss the law and the…” She paused, and Tessa knew what she was about to end with. “And the female issue.”

Jim stiffened. Kate sighed and shook her head, barely perceptibly. But Tessa herself knew that her sister wasn’t doing it simply because she liked the attention. Behind Jordan’s back, Scott, who was on waiter duty, gave Tessa the tiniest of winks. 

“Jordan, this is hardly the time,” their father muttered, but he might as well have not been there. Jordan kept a pleasant and good-natured smile, glancing from Michael back to Edwina.

“I’d like to applaud you, Lady Jordan,” Michael spoke up, and immediately turned bright red, but continued, resolutely. “Not many ladies care about such serious issues still, and that, to me, is a shame.”

For a moment, Tessa wondered if he wasn’t just parrotting Jordan, to make her like him more. Yet, he sounded completely earnest, and, even more so, his mother was nodding along.

“The female issue is an important one, in our society. Many things need to change, and the sooner the government acknowledges that, the better,” Edwina announced grandly, smiling at Jim like she was challenging him to argue. She appeared shrewd and unafraid of anyone’s judgment. Just like Jordan was.

“I myself am thinking to pursue studies in the law,” Jordan said, not very loudly, but with perfect clarity. Even Kate lost her composure and gasped.

“ _ Jordan! _ ” Jim snapped, glowering at his daughter. She blushed faintly, but carried on. “And I plan to commence my education as soon as possible.”

Michael looked dizzy with admiration, Tessa noticed, and like he was barely refraining from telling Jordan that he was in love on the spot, in front of everyone. 

 

It was the gentle, patient Kate that managed to smooth it all over by inviting them into the garden for dessert - the weather, thankfully, allowing it. 

Jim visibly saw that it was of no use to start an argument with Jordan in Edwina and Michael’s presence, so he reverted to his primary role of gracious host. When the waiters poured the coffee, he offered Michael a cigar, which the young Marquess politely refused. Then, the most unexpected happened in return.

“Do you mind if I help myself, Lord James?” 

Edwina was glancing at the ornately carved metal cigar box with an expression recalling that of a child wanting a present. Tessa and Jordan, who now sat side-by-side, exchanged shocked looks.  _ A lady wanted to smoke? In company?  _ Once in town on a family outing, the girls had spied a congregation of ladies with cigarettes on the street corner. Upon Tessa and Jordan’s question, Jim had told them in no uncertain terms who the ladies were, using words out of which  _ floozy  _ and  _ loose woman  _ were the kindest.

However, Edwina Carey was certainly not a loose woman or a floozy. She was expecting an invitation, her hand already above the cigar box. Jim cleared his throat, softly. “Of course, madam,” he said, with so much politeness, that Tessa suspected he wouldn’t begrudge her a pinch of tobacco snuff, if she had asked for it.

“Lovely,” said the Marchioness, snatching up a cigar and bringing it to her nose to inhale appreciatively. “I can’t resist a good…” She peered at the thing. “Cuban, is it?”

“From Havana,” nodded the discomfited host. He gestured to Scott, and he, hiding a smile, approached Edwina to light the cigar, and then lit Jim’s. She took a few satisfied puffs, and reclined in her chair, so unlike the demure Kate, who was sitting straight in her own.

“Say, why are we keeping the children here like they’re lap dogs? Why don’t we give them the freedom of spending some time in youthful company, away from our stiff conversation?” She peered at the Virtue parents through a cloud of smoke.

“Well, you children can go, if you’d rather take a walk, truly,” Kate agreed kindly. Jim preferred a nonverbal sign of approval, and Tessa, Jordan, and Michael got up to leave. 

“We’d show Lord Carey our park, Papa,” Jordan said, her eyes wide in awe at the sight of the contentedly-smoking Edwina. “Someone can come with us, if you’d rather.”

“Scott, accompany them,” Jim requested, and he left his post to walk a ways behind the three.

_ Yes! _ Tessa cheered mentally. As much as she liked Michael, she didn’t want to be the third wheel to her sister and a boy. But, all in all, the Careys made an impression that was to last a long time. She kept a tally: Michael, Edwina, and Jordan, a point each, while Papa had zero. The thought made her smile secretly. One doubt still lingered: did Jordan truly expect to get engaged to Michael, or did she have private interests in the affair? And for that matter, did Edwina so cleverly send them all off so the three adults could discuss the engagement, without the possible couple’s knowledge? No, no, Papa and Mama couldn’t be so tyrannical, to never even ask Jordan’s opinion. 

Consumed with all that musing, Tessa suddenly found them all exiting the gates to turn towards the park. She did catch Scott cast a longing glance towards the Careys’ automobile. Michael noticed it, too.

“Hey, do you want to take a look at the car?”

Scott jolted, rapidly tearing his eyes away from the direction. “No, no, sir, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help but notice how nice of a vehicle it is.”

Michael smiled, in a friendly and encouraging way. “Come on, it’s fine by me. You’re not the first to be under the spell, I daresay.” And then he was steering Scott back to where the car stood. Michael knocked on the door and requested the chauffeur to exit for a moment. The bemused man agreed. Then, the owner turned to Scott, and gestured inside.

“Want to look at it from the driver’s seat?”

Scott perked up immediately and looked almost unable to resist the tempting invitation. “But...but sir,” he stammered. “I wouldn’t dare presume to get inside the car.”

“No, you wouldn’t, because I’m presuming to invite you,” Michael replied, pleasantly. “In you go. No harm in looking around.”

This time, Scott decided not to play modest, and carefully climbed in. Tessa walked around to look at him from the outside window. He appeared delighted, touching the steering wheel and horn and the other tools with a reverent hand. Neither of them cared much that Jordan and Michael were deep in conversation to the other side of the automobile. 

After a couple minutes and a good examination of the interior, Scott slowly climbed back out. His dazzled expression spoke it all.

“That was the best moment of my life,” he whispered, still regarding the automobile like it was a person he admired. “That lucky, lucky chap. This thing is flawless.”

“Ah, are you done, Scott? How’d you like that?”

Michael’s jovial voice rang out, and he and Jordan rejoined Tessa and Scott. Tessa noticed that they were holding hands, but Jordan gently pulled hers out, when she saw her sister’s looking.

“I liked it immensely, sir,” answered a glowing Scott. Michael shrugged benevolently.

“It is what it is. My father liked his cars expensive - I prefer anything, as long as the thing does what it needs to. Also, please do away with this ‘sir’ business. Just Lord Michael is well enough. To tell you the truth, I’m still so unused to all the airs and graces that people put on with me.”

Michael was talking to them all like old friends, and his esteem only rose in Tessa’s eyes. She discerned that he was already taken with Jordan, and wanted to do everything to appeal to the potential bride’s family, all of it being sincere and honest. The thing was, how would it all end up for Jordan and him? What were Edwina and their parents talking about at that moment?

 

Tessa did not find out that bit of information, but she did look forward to discussing everything with Jordan later at night. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Jordan’s voice rang out in the quiet of their room.

“About?”

“Michael Carey.”

_ Of course.  _ “And?” Tessa was eager to hear her opinion.

“I don’t know if I’m in love with him.  _ He  _ definitely is, though.”

Jordan’s voice was quiet but firm. Tessa sat up, and looked towards her, scrambling to light her candle again. The glow illuminated her sister’s face, who appeared deep in thought.

“But you’d like to marry him, in theory?”

Silence.

“I’m not sure about that, either. Papa would be over the moon if I did, though. But Michael said that he thinks I’m beautiful, witty, and clever. I won’t pretend like that didn’t please me. I suppose I’ll see how I really feel in time. And I do need more time to make a decision. Not that Michael’s made me any proposals yet. But he clearly fancies me.”

_ That Michael wastes no time making connections,  _ thought Tessa. 

“I like him and his mother. They’re good people, and they’re worthy of a lot. He said his older brother died in the war and therefore left the marquessate to him. But when I asked what happened to his father, I don’t understand - he related a strange story about him dying of a heart attack.”

“Why is it strange? Maybe the man did die of the heart.”

“I don’t know. Michael didn’t really seem terribly sad about it all. There must be something we we’re not aware of. Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll find out.”

 

Tessa didn’t spend the next week thinking about the Careys. She had her own concerns: she was in equal measure excited and nervous about beginning her time at the Lauzon Lyceum the very following Monday. So it was with jitters that she mounted the automobile that was to take her on the outskirts of Ilderton. In around twenty minutes, Wheeler, the chauffeur, was pulling up near a tidy brownstone building that was considerably smaller than the houses all their neighbors lived in. It was almost plain in appearance, yet streamlined and unimposing enough to resemble a welcoming and not threatening place. Tessa had begged her parents not to accompany her, lest she appeared babyish and immature to her future classmates, and her father and mother reluctantly agreed - after much instruction about behavior and manners.

She bid Wheeler goodbye, gathered her brand-new purse, and took a deep breath, before entering the open door. One of the maids approached her.

“Hello,” Tessa began, trying to keep her voice confident. “My name is Lady Tessa Virtue, and I am a new student here.”

“Welcome, Lady Tessa,” said the maid, smiling. “Do follow me, if you please. I will show you to your main classroom.” They rose upstairs, to the second and last floor of the school. There, the maid softly knocked twice, and opened the door, standing aside to let Tessa pass.

She was met with four desks in two rows. The girls sitting at them all stopped their chatter and looked at the visitors. “This is your new classmate, miladies. Lady Tessa, please make yourself comfortable,” the maid announced, and left back downstairs. 

A small chorus of ‘hellos’ answered Tessa. Right away, she was relieved to see that their dispositions were for the most part, friendly. For the most part because, at the first desk, one of the girls rolled her eyes and resumed talking with her neighbor, who was one of the girls that greeted Tessa. Deciding to ignore it for now, Tessa spied a free chair at the second desk to the right, and strode right over to it, determined not to notice the scrutiny of the girl who had rolled her eyes.

“Is this taken?” she asked a slim blonde occupying the other half. The girl smiled in welcome, and swept her purse further out of the way.

“No, not at all! Feel free to sit. I’m Kaitlyn, and we can be partners. That is, if you’d like. If not, that’s quite alright,” she rattled off, making Tessa feel even more at ease. She praised herself silently for getting a friendly neighbor on the first try. 

“Tessa,” she replied, smiling back. But she didn’t have a chance to respond further or ask any questions about Kaitlyn in return, because the next people that stepped into the classroom changed the energy in the space. The dark-haired lady that was at the head of the procession wasn’t particularly tall, but she projected an air of unquestionable authority.

All the girls stood up; Tessa copied them. The lady approached the center of the classroom, and smiled.  _ That surely must be Madame Lauzon.  _ Next, Tessa was astonished to see Suzanne Wood and, of all people, Marina Zueva follow Madame Lauzon into the room. Suddenly, the lyceum was that much more interesting a place.

“Please take your seats.” They complied. Tessa noticed at a glance how much straighter postures became and how much the general fidgeting halted.

“Welcome, mesdemoiselles, to our lyceum. My name is Marie-France Dubreuil Lauzon, and I am the headmistress. I am delighted to be educating each and every one of you. I know that all of you will make your best effort to meet my expectations, and I truly hope that I won’t be deceived in this.”

The two rows of girls hung onto every word from Madame Lauzon. Tessa herself was captivated by how easily she managed to get all of their attention. 

“On my end, I promise you unquestionable support and mentorship in all our lessons and exercises. My fellow instructors promise the same as well,” Marie-France indicated Suzanne and Marina, sitting behind her.

“Now, that I have introduced myself, I’m eager to get to know all of you. Please stand when your turn comes and tell me your full name. Starting with you, mademoiselle, if you’d be so kind.”

Judging from Eye-Rolling Girl’s haughty expression, Tessa hardly thought that she would be kind; nevertheless, she rose. “Gabriella, Baroness Papadakis,” the girl enunciated, making a deliberately exaggerated curtsy. “I am descended from the oldest aristocratic lines in France and Greece, madame.”

Marie-France remained nonchalant, her smile polite and unfazed. “Thank you, mademoiselle, you may take your seat.” Gabriella sat, but she clearly was disappointed that the superintendent was not impressed by her important title.

Her neighbor stood up, meanwhile. “Miss Cassandra Hilborn,” she said, and Tessa decided that she liked her attitude better than Gabriella’s.

“Thank you, please take your seat.”

But then was Tessa’s own turn to introduce herself, and she decided to mock the arrogant French baroness.

“Lady Tessa Jane Virtue, of Ilderton Hall,” she said, with a pointed look at Gabriella. The girl’s lip curled in derisive jealousy. The other girls giggled, and a hint of humor appeared on Marie-France’s face. 

“Thank you, mademoiselle.”

Beside Tessa, the blonde girl, Kaitlyn, took her turn. “Lady Kaitlyn Weaver,” she said.

“Thank you. Take your seat, please.”

Now, the girls on the left side of the room spoke. 

“Miss Kaetlyn Osmond,” said the petite girl with the lively brown eyes, at the first desk. Her neighbor introduced herself as Miss Maia Shibutani. Gabriella didn’t hesitate to mock her shy, quiet voice, but was quickly chastised by Marie-France:

“Please behave as would befit a baroness, mademoiselle Papadakis. Respect your classmates.” 

Surprisingly, Gabriella had no snarky comment in reply. She probably understood that there was no use in vexing Madame Lauzon.

At the last desk sat Miss Meagan Duhamel and Miss Madison Hubbell, and both seemed to be friendly and well-mannered.

Marie-France smiled again. “Thank you for introducing yourselves, mesdemoiselles. I am sure that our time together will be useful as well as pleasant. Now, I will make a brief introduction of our teachers. Mrs. Suzanne Wood, Etiquette and Aesthetics.”

Suzanne nodded pleasantly when she stood, and Tessa returned her smile. At least one familiar instructor. Her nervousness dissipated for good now.

“Countess Marina Zueva, Dancing.” Marina didn’t smile, only inclined her head, which didn’t surprise Tessa at all. 

Marie-France continued: “Finally, I myself am in charge of both Dancing, as needed, and Household Science. After you marry, you will be expected to oversee large manors and even estates, such as our nearest, Fordley House and Ilderton Hall. Therefore, the basic elements of housekeeping are imperative to know for the future lady of any house.”

A surprised murmur went up from the rows of girls. “I take it you did not expect to study such a subject? Yes, mademoiselle Papadakis?”

Gabriella’s raised hand was acknowledged, and she stood up - more like  _ shot  _ up from her seat in indignation. “ _ Mais non!  _ Why should  _ we  _ learn all this cooking and cleaning drudgery? Don’t we all have servants for that?” 

The French girl eyed all the others, expecting them to nod and agree. Tessa noticed that everyone else only shrugged, looking unsure but not displeased. Moreover, she herself did not think Household Science sounded all that bad. 

“You will not be expected to cook or otherwise physically run the household - that much is true, as it is true that most of the estates are providing servants for the work. However, you must definitely know how a kitchen or the grounds of an estate function, in order for an entire estate to run smoothly.”

Gabriella didn’t reply, only raised a disdainful eyebrow.

“I hope that the time each one of you spends here is well-invested into the great honor that awaits you: your  _ début  _ in front of English society. Judging from your ages, there will still be three or four years before that time comes, but we have much to learn in the space between now and then. Please be sure that I will not tolerate laziness or rudeness. You must learn to be women of strong and gracious character. And you must listen to the headmistress when I’m speaking, mesdemoiselles from the first desk.”

Gabriella and Cassandra Hilborn jumped slightly, both with identical guilty, blushing faces. Marie-France spent a moment examining them closely. With a hint of a smile, she concluded, 

“But please keep in mind that natural show of emotion, within reason,  _ is  _ encouraged. Good manners and proper etiquette does not mean that all of you cannot have your own opinions or beliefs. Communication, both among yourselves, and with us, the teachers, is the foundation upon which depends the success of our time here.”

 

The first day that turned out to be introductory, concluded with Tessa going home after having made a brand-new friend in the person of Lady Kaitlyn Weaver. She was bubbly and cheerful, with an open personality that made bonding easy. Kaitlyn revealed that she lived some distance away from Ilderton Hall, in one of the smaller homes, and that she was neighbors with a family called Poje.

“The Pojes have a son, and I haven’t seen much of him yet, but oh, Tessa, he’s so handsome, he could have stepped out of a fairytale!” Kaitlyn enthused, as they made their way out of the lyceum building. “Can you imagine - I’d been leaving today to go here, and he was getting into his automobile to go somewhere, I assume, and then he looked at me, and I looked at him, and  _ heavens above, _ he smiled at me. At me! It gave me absolute  _ palpitations!” _

“Oh, indeed,” Tessa murmured, craning her neck to pick out her father’s car out of the rest in the lyceum grounds.

“My God, Tess, he’s all tall, and has such beautiful dark eyes, and has the most dazzling smile I’ve ever - ”

“Apologies for the interruption - milady Tessa, your carriage awaits,” cut in a voice near her, and Tessa’s head whipped to that direction, which was unexpectedly nearer than she thought.  _ Scott? _

He was wearing a grin, and gesturing to the car. Tessa found her mouth was dry, and she was almost sure that it was from the boy’s proximity to her. But it was only Scott. Her friend.  _Right?_

“Well then, Tessa, see you soon!” Kaitlyn called breezily, and skipped off, but not before a curious look in her and Scott’s direction. Tessa hardly waved, her attention now fully on her _other_ friend’s arrival.

“Your father had to send Wheeler somewhere, so I volunteered to go collect you,” he explained. Before she could say anything, he was grasping her gently by the elbow and helping her up the stoop of the car. When he walked around to sit next to her at the steering wheel, Tessa, again, had the strange and acute realization of his nearness. It threw her off and intrigued her, both to an immense amount. It didn’t even dawn on her that he had seated her in the front, rather than customarily in the backseat. She’d lifted a hand to move the window shade to the side (and have an excuse not to look at Scott), when he easily leaned over. 

“Let me get that for you,” and a faint brush of his warm arm perilously close to her. 

“Thank you.” Her voice sounded like she was short of breath, but it was ridiculous. Preposterous. Absurd. 

He pulled out of the lyceum yard. “So, how was the first day? Too many prissy teachers?” Tessa stole a glance at the grin that followed his light tone.

_ “He has the most dazzling smile,”  _ her mind spoke, in Kaitlyn Weaver’s voice, and she shook her head slightly.

“It was rather nice, actually. Madame Lauzon, the headmistress, is a very kind and intelligent lady. And I made a friend, the young lady you’ve seen me with. I was surprised that it was so easy,” she confessed.

“Speaking of, there’s a surprise for you at home,” Scott said, pulling his eyes off from the road to her, and giving her a wink.

_ “Absolute palpitations,”  _ said Kaitlyn’s voice again, and Tessa felt a flutter in her stomach that couldn’t have been anxiety.

“Is that so?” she repeated, faintly. And, in a second, they were arriving at Ilderton’s gate. _Funny. The drive_ to _the lyceum felt much longer,_ she observed _._

Needless to say, when Scott helped her down from the car, the fluttering and goosebumps returned tenfold, and confused Tessa so much, she almost laughed at herself.

Scott could not even guess how many surprises that day brought to her. Whatever he said was waiting had to have been very,  _ very  _ important, in order to override what she realized, with almost fearful shock -  _ she almost, maybe, perhaps, wanted to be more than friends with Scott Moir. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, THANK YOU to everyone who cares, reads, comments, and gives kudos! The support and feedback means the world to me. Second of all, I know that this is the 2nd consecutive chapter where there was a lot of Jordan, but, again, the Carey family will be pretty important later on, so I hope that doesn't distract from TS's plot lines too much. Third of all, I hope this was a good one and worked for you guys, and I aimed to do as best as I could, as always <3


	11. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two conversations, one automobile drive, and a sweet surprise. And Important Realizations ™, what's a fic without them?

_Beginning of May 1918_

Kate had greeted her daughter with a mysterious smile, like she was in on the surprise that Scott mentioned, once he brought her home. She started by asking Tessa about her first day of studies.

“How was your first day, darling? Did you like it at the lyceum?”

“Oh, I did, very much,” said Tessa, with great enthusiasm, placing her purse onto the table and walking over to take a seat. “Madame Lauzon is such an educated and courteous lady. And she’s good-natured, and most of the girls in my class are, too. Except for one, Gabriella Papadakis. She came across as quite a snob.”

“Well, you inevitably will come across similar people in life, Tessie,” her mother said gently. “The trick is to just not lower yourself down to their level, but to behave politely with them just like with all others. That will shame them to think on their faults better than arguments or clashes.”

Tessa seemed to reflect on the advice. “But I think I did make a friend. Her name is Kaitlyn Weaver, and she’s very lovely and completely free of any arrogance. We even sit at the same desk.”

“That’s very good,” smiled Kate. “I remember when I made friends at the young ladies’ school in Canada.” Her wistful, faraway gaze spoke of her nostalgia.

Tessa was interested. Mama said so little of her life in Canada, before marriage. It was implied that it made her sad to speak of it, because she reminded herself of her deceased parents.

“Was that before you had met Papa?”

“Right before. I finished school and my parents were searching for a good match for me. Your Papa charmed me quite off my feet.” Yet, Tessa did not see anything particularly charmed or enamored in her mother’s expression.

For her part, Kate was transferred into those times - when she, young and carefree Kitty McCormick from the Canadian London, met the imposing and handsome son of the Earl of Ilderton and fell hopelessly in love. He declared he felt the same, but that meeting, and the course her life took afterwards, drew a clear line between youthful innocence and mature trials. And now her younger daughter, her baby, was growing up so quickly. Soon enough she will be thrown into the world of suitors and the society. Kate prayed every day for fate to be kind to both her daughters. Tessa was so innocent, just like herself at that age, but so full of curiosity and passion for life. That included this unexpected love of all things fashion.

Speaking of which…

“Oh, sweetheart, I nearly forgot that I do have a surprise to give to you.” Tessa’s eyes lit up immediately, when Kate handed her a sealed letter from her secretary desk.

“I was waiting for you to come home and open it. You’re nearly fifteen, and that’s mature enough for you to open letters addressed to yourself.” The Virtue parents strictly monitored any correspondence that had their daughters as recipients, in order to eliminate anything unbecoming for a young lady to read.

Tessa grasped the letter excitedly, barely remembering to thank her mother. Her grin only increased when she saw whom it was from, and thus wasted little time to tear the envelope open.

_Ilderton Hall,_

_Lady Tessa Virtue_

_(by consent of the Earl and Countess of llderton)_

 

_My dear Lady Tessa,_

_I am writing this letter to you concerning the proposition that you may recall I have mentioned when I first had the pleasure of your acquaintance. Your mother and I have spoken at length about your talents and promise in the field of couture. Thus, I would like to offer you an invitation to collaborate with me as my assistant in the atelier. I am aware that you have begun your studies, and so promise that any work we may do together will not interfere in your educational endeavors. I am, as I had expressed, under a strong impression of your knowledge, and do firmly believe that such a skill should be developed and cultivated as much as possible. Do give me a response as to your feelings on the matter._

 

_Permit me to express my sentiments of best regard to you and your parents and sister._

_Yours, most sincerely,_

_L. Duff-Gordon_

 

Tessa couldn’t tear away from the letter, reading it twice over, to make sure that she did not imagine it all. _Lady Gordon herself wrote to her! She wants her to assist in her boutique!_ Giddy with excitement, she swooped up and ran up to Kate to throw her arms around her mother.

“Oh, Mama, it’s from Lady Gordon! She’s inviting me to work for her! In her atelier! Mama, this was my biggest dream!”

Kate laughed softly, embracing her. “I’m very happy for you, my dear. It seems like she’s very fond of you, and you had made a good impression on her.”

“To think of it, maybe more women will see mine and Lady Gordon’s example, and begin to open their own businesses! And then, maybe I’ll become just as famous, and my design will be known all over the country, and -”

“Slow down, Tessie,” Kate laughed. “First of all, you must devote extra attention to the lyceum, and only then we’ll see how it goes for you in Lady Gordon’s. An education is most important, particularly for a young lady from a good family.”

“I understand,” Tessa quickly said, but her bubble of euphoria over the surprise didn’t pop. Then, something else occurred to her. “Oh, I simply must tell Scott all about it!”

Kate looked at her closely, and Tessa noticed her exhale a soft sigh.

“Before you go, I’d like to say a few words about you and Scott.”

Completely casually, she set about pouring two cups of tea, and opened the glass lid on a tray of small lemon tarts.

“Let’s have tea and chat for a little while.”

Tessa was puzzled. Why was her mother so serious, at the drop of a hat? But she settled back, having almost taken off running in search of Scott.

“The issue is...you are a young lady, and your fifteenth birthday is coming up soon. This means that you have to be a bit more...cautious in your interactions with a young man,” Kate began, after a pause.

“I-I’m not sure what you mean,” Tessa replied, nervously. What did her becoming older have to do with their friendship? _And yet, was it truly friendship, anymore?_

“If people notice a pattern of you two behaving as though you are close, they might come to unfavorable conclusions. A woman can’t be wayward with her attention, unless the man in question is her betrothed, or her spouse. And even then, one has to exercise modesty and good judgment, especially in public.”

Kate’s tone was gentle, but her message was clear enough. Tessa chewed her tangy bite of tart, not sure what to say to that. When she washed it down with a sip of tea, she found her voice.

“But Mama...Scott is a wonderful friend. We respect each other, and he would never offend me, not even in the smallest gesture,” she persuaded.

“I know. I know it, and I am fond of Scott myself, as he is a perfectly mannered and nice young man. And I know as well that he’s a loyal friend to you. Because he’s just that - a friend, isn’t he?” Now, Kate was peering at Tessa insistently.

_Oh dear. How much had I given away? Is it visible that he had occupied my mind, of late? That I find him bewilderingly attractive? God, would Mama be angry that I have such thoughts, if she knew of them?_

“He’s...yes. You’re right. Scott’s a friend,” she managed. From her mother’s expression, she seemed practically convinced.

“Then I trust your prudence,” Kate said, reaching to squeeze her hand. “You are a smart and level-headed girl. You know Papa and I only want the best for you and for Jordan.”

“Yes, Mama,” said Tessa, hesitantly. “I know.”

 

_May 16-17, 1918_

Tessa had changed so much recently, and Scott realized that his image and opinion of her had changed as well.

On one hand, she was still his mischievous, faithful friend _Tess_ , his _T_ and _kiddo._ She could be counted on for adventures, even if they didn’t feature tree-climbing or running around as much anymore. He’d been planning a grand surprise for her upcoming birthday: he’d finally fulfill her dream of learning to drive the automobile, and he could hardly wait to teach her.

But then, mixed with all that half-childish playfulness, was Tessa’s own change as a person. As a girl, and most notably, in appearance. Her fifteenth year had given her more height, and defined her figure in unexpected ways. Where before she had admitted to being slim, now Scott couldn’t help but notice, at a glance, that she had gently sloping curves in her silhouette. Her hair shone like dark silk, and her green eyes illuminated her delicately pale face. She was becoming a beauty, he could not help noticing. She was much different from Jordan, whose striking appearance was somehow bolder, sharper. Tessa, on the other hand, had almost a fragile, angelic quality to herself, especially when she smiled. Scott was probably the only one who knew that in reality, this delicacy masked incredible bravery, tenaciousness, and determination of character.

He had a distinct feeling that he had just slipped into this territory overnight. Yesterday, there was his familiar friend Tess, and today there was Lady Tessa, a young woman - a fascinating mystery just waiting to be puzzled out. He hadn’t ever paid attention to _girls_ in general that much, until then. Once again, the flirty and outgoing farmer girls couldn’t even hold a candle to how much Tessa meant to him. She wasn’t just any old girl, no sir. She was... _Tessa._ And she consumed more and more of his thoughts every day. He found himself wanting to relate every conversation back to her, and every time he knew he was about to see her, it filled him with jittery (and oddly pleasant) excitement.

One day, he sensed a similar change in Danny. His older brother seemed to withdraw into himself, to become contemplative and less boisterous. But this new behavior went from strange to outright alarming.

“Hey Dan, mind passing me the shoe shine?” Scott requested that day. He was assigned to polish up one of the Earl’s pairs, that had been scuffed.

All three brothers were downstairs, working on their different tasks. Danny, as Scott noticed, was oddly distracted and inattentive the whole morning.

Charlie smirked, also noticing his brother’s strange ignorance. Danny was supposed to have left for town to pick up some extra groceries at the cook’s complaint that the grocer had sent too little. Now, he was sitting at the table for ten minutes, aimlessly doodling loops and loops of ink over the list he had.

“ _Danny,_ ” Scott repeated, now exasperated.

Charlie let out a short laugh and snapped his fingers in front of Danny’s face. Their brother jerked to attention and glared at them.

“ _What?”_

Scott and Charlie shared a look, rolling their eyes. “Pull your head out of the damn clouds and hand Scott the shoe polish,” Charlie insisted. Danny reached to his side sullenly and pushed the jar of polish towards Scott. He blushed, for an unknown reason, like they caught him at something untoward.

“Right, I’m going to help Pa,” Charlie got up, chuckling. “Scotty, see that Ma doesn’t think he’s been drinking, if she looks at those glassy eyes.”

“Shut up, idiot,” Danny muttered, when Charlie left, having ruffled his hair.

“Danny, what’s wrong? You’re not yourself today. Did anything happen?” Scott’s helpful and concerned nature shone through. He always noticed when people weren’t acting the usual way, and more often than not, he was ready to help. Danny’s eyes shifted from side to side, like he was worried about eavesdroppers.

“I’m gonna tell you, but you have to promise not to say it to anyone. I’ll tell Ma and Pa later. Sometime.”

Scott nodded, with an amount of worry. Was the issue something bad? Danny finally sighed heavily, leaned over, but to Scott’s surprise, his eyes looked happy and the blush still sat high on his cheeks.

“I was thinking recently…” He held a significant pause. “I am planning to court Tessa after this summer.”

The bottle of shoe polish slid from Scott’s fingers with a loud clatter, but he didn’t even notice. His heart seemed to have dropped into his heels.

“What do you mean - you plan to _court_ her? But…?” he sputtered. _No, no, no, anything but that,_ his frightened brain chanted. _Anyone but her. Why her? Danny always thought of her as a sister, even said so, and here we go now._

Danny was oblivious to Scott’s turmoil, innocent of what he had caused with his simple words. “Oh, Scott, it wouldn’t be a sin to marry such a girl. She’s smart, she’s amusing, she’s hardworking, and those eyes! And, I’ll tell you, _everything else_ is just as pretty,” he laughed, coloring his praise with something that sounded crass.

 _How could he speak like that about Lady Tessa? About his,_ Scott’s _Tess?_ Scott became incensed. He himself had been lectured by Ma to not harbor any hopes in that direction, and now Danny, without a care in the world, turns his world on its head?

“What the _hell_ are you talking about? How dare you say that about her? Have some respect!” He jumped to his feet, unconscious of his hands balling into fists. He wouldn’t allow such talk about Tessa, not even from his own brother. Danny stared back.

“What’s it to you? Why are you so offended?”

“Because you _can’t_ be serious! How can you...you haven’t even spent any time with her, ever!” Scott willed himself not to cry, in anger and bitter disappointment. His brother, whom he loved and respected, was a backstabber. How could Danny do such a thing?

Danny grinned. “Well, why do you think it’s me who always goes to the grocer woman’s?”

“What the hell does the grocer woman have to do with this?” Scott snapped. Now was absolutely not the occasion for Danny to joke. He sat back down heavily, planting a hand over his face.

“Hey, hey...Scotty, don’t be so upset,” Danny sensed a strange reaction in his younger brother. “It’s only Tessa Harding, you know? The grocer woman’s garden girl?”

Scott raised his eyes in disbelief. “ _What?”_

“I’ve been saying, I plan to start courting her soon. I do like her very much, and she likes me, of which I’m sure. I know our parents won’t be against it, the only thing I don’t understand is why you -” Realization was slowly coming over his face, along with a grin that would make the Cheshire cat jealous. Scott swallowed nervously. He’d just given himself away, hook, line, and sinker, hadn’t he? Yet, the bigger part of his mind rejoiced in relief that Danny actually did not mean -

“Which Tessa did you think I meant?” Danny pressed him, boring his gaze into Scott’s. His eyes widened in the next second. “You don’t want to tell me...” He pointed an evocative finger upstairs.

Scott had nothing to say, but nothing was needed, either. Danny chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, little brother. I would say this is sweet and adorable, but you know you’re making a bit of a mistake, don’t you?”

“Why can you court a girl, and I can’t?” Scott argued, returning to his polishing with unnecessary zeal.

“Tessa isn’t a _girl._ She’s a lady. The likes of her are not for blokes like us,” Danny lectured him, sagely.

Scott cackled. “You’re the one to talk. Who was crazy about Lady Jordan two years ago?”

Danny frowned, clearly not liking the reminder. “Exactly. That’s why I’m trying to prevent you from making the same mistake as I almost did.”

Now, Scott got angry again. _What mistake? Danny thought Jordan was pretty, but that was the front and end of it. He never had any strong feelings for her._

“Look, I don’t know why you’re telling me all this, but don’t think I’m some stupid little boy who doesn’t know how to behave with ladies,” he warned. Danny sighed.

“I’m telling you it because I’m your brother and want only the best for you, Scotty. If you soar too high in the clouds, the crash will be all the more painful. You see I mean?”

“I know, Dan,” Scott grunted. “Don’t go nagging at me, because, so you know, I’ve gotten the exact same ‘want only the best for you’ talk from Ma.”

“I know you’re a smart kid, and that you’ll do everything right,” Danny said, returning to cheerfulness. He finally stood up. “Say, does my hair look more or less well?” His hand touched his brown mop of hair.

Scott raised his eyebrows. “It looks like a footman’s hair, what else do you want from it?”

“Well, I have places to go, so I can’t be looking like a street urchin.”

Danny hid his smile, and Scott remembered that he had _business_ at the grocer woman’s.

“Don’t crash too hard from the clouds with Miss Garden Girl over there!” Scott called, cackling and shaking his head at his brother’s retreating back.

 

Tessa’s fifteenth birthday arrived with wishes and hugs and kisses from her parents and Jordan. Her parents gave her a splendid bouquet of pinkish-yellow roses and had the cook prepare her favorite dishes for breakfast. She had ventured outside afterwards, but only managed to reach the hallway before someone’s palms covered her eyes.

“Guess who, birthday T?”

She had no need for guessing. She knew it in her heart of hearts. That voice. Those unnervingly gentle hands.

“Scott?” What was supposed to be a confident answer, turned out a breathy whisper. _What was this strange effect of his presence on her?_

Scott released her, and she spun around. He was wearing a grin and holding a large bunch of pink peonies.

“Happy birthday, kiddo!” His eyes shone as he said the greeting, and suddenly Tessa was aware that they were perfectly alone in the hallway. She was lost in the warmth of his eyes, for several tremulous moments. By an effort, she shook herself back to normal.

_He’s smiling. So what? Everyone smiles. But not everyone looks so handsome while smiling, either..._

“Oh! Oh, thank you so much! What pretty flowers,” she managed a flustered reply, taking the bouquet and suffering another heart jump when their fingers briefly touched.

“It was a long quest, but I tried to get you the _prettiest_ flowers,” Scott said, and Tessa couldn’t help but be drawn to the funny scrunch of his nose when he spoke. Not even that humorous quirk detracted from his appeal.

She laughed again, searching her mind for an amusing response. “These peonies do look strikingly familiar, I have to say. Our garden has the exact same variety, if I recall,” she murmured, tilting her head playfully.

Scott just shrugged and grinned. “I know how you love peonies, so I wanted to give you some just for yourself. The ones in the garden aren’t as nice as these, anyway.”

“Why do you think so?” Tessa burrowed her nose into the soft blossoms. A pause, longer than before, made her look back up. Scott’s eyes had darkened with a less lighthearted emotion, and she felt herself coloring probably a similar shade to the flowers.

“Because the ones in the garden aren’t held by you. So they are just not as beautiful,” he told her, simply.

_He called me beautiful? Stupid cheeks, stop blushing, or else he’ll find you odd next._

“Really,” she said softly. To that, he nodded and then, his usual playfulness snuck back into his expression.

“But that’s not all of what I had prepared for your birthday, you know.”

“Ah, truly, you didn’t have to,” Tessa said, quickly. She was too grown to expect many gifts at fifteen, surely. Besides, flowers given by Scott seemed like the best present of all.

“Come on, Tutu. You’ll like this even better,” Scott invited her.

And, not for the first time, she found herself unable to resist his scheming that already promised loads of fun.

_I’m only fifteen. I want to have fun and play and explore. I can be a boring, serious adult later. Much later._

With those thoughts, Tessa followed her best friend outside, but first, the peonies received the place of honor on her bedroom table.

 

_“Seriously?”_

Tessa gave the automobile a dumbfounded look, then fixed one on Scott, then back to the automobile.

“I am completely serious. I mean, of course, if you changed your mind and don’t want to anymore -” Scott cut himself off, looking at her with some uncertainty. Tessa squeezed her eyes closed, struggling not to jump at him and _squeeze_ him. As much as she did want to, for a wild instant, a voice of reason cut in, reminding her that it was best not to give in to such foolish impulses with the risk of prying eyes.

“This is,” she said instead, shakily, “the absolute best and...I don’t know...most perfect of your ideas.” Scott lit up at the enthusiastic approval, seeming to soak it up like the spring sunshine overhead.

“So...when would you like to go driving?”

“Isn’t right now an option?” If he did this just to prank her...No, he wouldn’t be so heartless.

“You really want to?” Now, his voice teased, and that made him even more boyishly charming.

“Why, of course, I damn well want to go driving now!” She all but stomped her foot, but Scott let out a belly laugh.

“I thought young ladies didn’t swear.”

“And I thought young ladies weren’t denied what they were promised.”

Something undefinable flitted in Scott’s eyes, but he shook it away with another smile and a playful eye roll.

“Then, step inside, my persistent friend.”

 

They were able to sneak out of the grounds, with Scott at the wheel, without any suspicions or discoveries. Tessa’s father was, of course, away at his job, her mother wouldn’t go down to the garage if she was paid, and Mr. and Mrs. Moir had work in spades.

Scott drove confidently, whistling tunes. She sat next to him, and, again, was full of jitters, but unsure if it was the excitement of upcoming driving, the nervousness about it, or a whole other kind of trepidation. At last, they stopped at a wide stretch of road, where they would carry on their lessons without interruption.

Tessa changed the passenger seat for the driver’s examining every new aspect with curiosity. She was examining all the strange, even daunting, parts of the car in turn, when Scott, who had settled at her side, asked, “Ready?”

“Always,” she said blithely, but her stomach churned the slightest amount. What if they did something to the car, without meaning to? Nevermind she, but Scott would get into so much trouble.

If he sensed this covert hesitation, he said nothing. “Alright. So, the steering wheel is, of course, self-explanatory. You put your hands on either side, like this.”

An unexpected thrill of warmth ran down Tessa’s body, when he shifted her hands from her lap to the wheel, to demonstrate.

“There are pedals on the floor, there, just like a piano. Now, I’ll start the ignition switch for you, and then you place your left foot on the pedal - _don’t_ press just yet - and we’ll go.”

His warm breath tickled her ear as he explained. The heat of his body was so disconcertingly but so excitingly near her.

“Got it, Tess? Ask me if you didn’t understand something.” Scott had finished talking, and was looking at her questioningly.

_Jesus, think. Think. What foot goes on what pedal? What’s the ignition switch again? Ah, I can’t concentrate. What a harebrained scheme this was. Why is he affecting me this way?_

“No, I’m alright. We can go,” she said, barely audibly, but made an effort to keep her voice steady.

Before long, Scott’s encouragement and guidance had her rolling down along the sandy road, and she loved it. Her nervous reluctance changed to delight.

“I’m driving! Scott, I’m driving!” she shouted, overcome with the freedom of it. Scott chuckled, low and with undisguised pride.

“Of course you are. How can T not drive a Model T?”

Several minutes later, Tessa stepped off the stoop of the car, but her dizzy enjoyment of the ride sent her stumbling right into Scott’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” a murmur, and a strong embrace, and she was lowered to the ground, like a precious porcelain figurine.

“This was an unimaginably wonderful birthday present. I can’t thank you enough, Scott.” Tessa still had that sense of the solid road swimming ever-so-slightly under her feet.

The air between them trembled with the unspoken, for the first time.

Then, so quickly, Tessa was worried she’d imagined it, Scott leaned to brush his lips to her cheek. The effect was the sweetest kind of pins and needles all over her arms and legs.

He kissed her. He, Scott, _kissed_ her. Was this her first kiss? Tessa had a strong suspicion that the May sky was about to explode with fireworks and rainbows, all at the same time.

Scott’s cheeks turned a dark pink. “Sorry. God, I have no idea what came over me, but I meant no disrespect, honest, I just -”

She shook her head, determined to dispel his guilt. “No, Scott, no, I am absolutely well, no problem, no worries,” she babbled, stringing together clumsy words, as if to relearn the act of speaking.

 

The drive home had them smiling quietly, without any words. Scott was looking at the road with his small grin, but more meaningful than goofy humor. Tessa directed hers out the window, her fingers touching the place on her cheek that just got acquainted with those other smiling lips.

Both of them, unknown to each other, had hundreds of haphazard thoughts, that all revolved around one and the same.

  



	12. Elation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ilderton Fair has surprises galore for Tessa and Scott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, my dear readers (and those who aren't hopefully too angry at me for another two-month pause!)
> 
> I come back bearing this 'gift' in the form of a 9k update, after a time of being unable to write, due to a bunch of external factors. I hope I can work more on consistency, but at the same time, I wanted to really spend time on each new part, and not just update something quickly, but with less quality than desired.
> 
> The good news: this is F-L-U-F-F!   
> The less good(?) news: the next few chapters will have considerably more angst, because I need to advance the non-TS plot as well.   
> Other good news: enjoy some tiny progress between TS in this chap!

Her mind was chock-full of nothing but Scott for the rest of the day. They’d come back to Ilderton, saying little. Scott helped her down from the car, again, when he pulled up. 

“Did you have fun?” he asked softly. She had to concentrate to reply instead of throwing herself at him and kissing him on the cheek again.

“I truly did. Thank you so much, Scott,” she said, immediately distracted again by the feel of his big, warm palm squeezing her hand gently. “I hope we go driving again sometime,” she added, and then, with a rush of strange boldness, “just us, together.”

Scott smiled, sincerely and joyfully. “I hope so, too.” After a pause, he let her hand go, and added, in regretful farewell, “Now I have to go back to work.”

“But how will you explain where you were, if someone asks?” Tessa inquired, disliking the possibility of Scott being questioned and angry at for taking one of the estate automobiles without permission. Still, something unfamiliar in her actually relished the idea of her and him having a secret together.  _ Wasn’t that just like friends did? Like always, when they stole sweets before dinner, when they did exactly the kind of childhood activities they were advised against, like climbing and running? _

But this...this was the beginning of something bigger than hills and running contests and stolen truffles. 

“I’ll make something up,” Scott told her, cheerful and confident as ever. “Don’t you worry about me, kiddo. Now, I’ll have to go back, before Ma sends out a search party,” he told her, with his signature laugh. “See you around - and happy birthday, once more.” A farewell smile and wink - naturally. 

And so, he left ‘kiddo’ looking at him go in the most confusing of mindsets. 

Tessa knew it almost for sure now. His kindness, sense of humor, and openness towards her, added to the warm hazel of his eyes and good-natured smile and laugh truly made her look at him in a new light. She had to admit it, even to herself. Mama had been so right about it all, that Tessa grew slightly indignant. And she still didn’t understand why she was being so lectured about manners and decorum where boys were concerned. All she wanted from Scott were these innocent adventures, just the two of them together. 

_ But then again...  _

Her hand rose to touch her cheek, where he’d kissed her. For a shocking moment, she found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him  _ the grown-up way _ , on the lips. An unfamiliar agitation spread from her heart somewhere to her belly, and she felt awash in confused embarrassment and...increased curiosity. 

When Scott’s brothers were his age, around sixteen, she and Scott spied them kissing girls at different occasions. The small kids that they two were at the time, they regarded the action as strange and funny. On one hand, Tessa never witnessed such blatant displays from any actual adult in her life, not even her parents. It was simply not the way to act. Along with it, such things were implied to be indecent to even  _ think _ of, much less  _ do _ in the presence of other people.

Did Scott think about the same things? He was slightly older, and for some reason, she believed that this silly topic wouldn’t be of interest to him. 

All the same, she couldn’t help but turn it over in her mind, again and again. 

“Have you ever been in love?”

Tessa spoke the question spontaneously, while Rachel tidied her clothes away that night. Her maid paused what she was doing and blushed, letting out an embarrassed giggle. 

“Milady! Such things you ask me…” Her shyness made Tessa burst out laughing. All the same, she’d ask it of Jordan, too, had her sister not recently moved to a separate bedroom. It was because she had an impulse to confide in someone trusted, no matter who it was. 

“Well, have you?”

Rachel was still blushing a bit. “No, I have never. But I expect it will happen someday, as it does with everyone else,” she said, pensively straightening out Tessa’s blouse on the hanger. “I’m only fifteen as of today, anyway. I have all the time in the world to experience all the sweetness and torment of love.”

Tessa gasped and turned around, putting down her hairbrush. “You share a birthday with me, and were silent! That’s such a wonderful thing! You’ve never told me - I didn’t get to give you greetings -”

“No, I wouldn’t presume to expect any greetings,” Rachel hastened to explain. “Servants don’t typically enjoy such liberty from their employers, so I couldn’t act entitled.”

“Rachel, please, don’t hesitate to tell me of anything important,” Tessa persuaded her in return. “Remember what I’ve said on the first day? I’d like it if we were friends, and it would be entitled of  _ me  _ to boss you around.” She stood up and faced her maid, smiling. “My very best wishes for you on your birthday, in this case.”

“Thank you, milady. And I would like to express the same, since it’s your day, too,” Rachel said, smiling in a more relaxed way. “I’m sure my behavior is vexing to you, but it’s just I’m still getting used to all this freedom that I never expected to have in a household like this one.”

“Your observation is right - we would never dream to treat servants like property,” Tessa rejoined, sitting down again so Rachel would arrange her hair into a loose braid for bed. “Our population depends on you, so much more than the other way ‘round. And I’m grateful that I have you personally to assist me.”

“Thank you, again.” The girl smiled, genuinely again, finishing up the braiding. And then Tessa noticed that she took a hesitant pause and returned to the dropped subject. “So...you asked me...I do not wish to pry where I shouldn’t...but what made you ask me if I have loved?”

Tessa’s eyes dropped to her lap, as her cheeks warmed up. “Oh. I’m not sure,” she began, unthinkingly pulling apart the ribbon on her robe, and then re-tying it. “Because - and it’s strange for me to admit this right now - I feel as though I myself am close to the experience.”

“You believe yourself to be in love with someone, If I may speak plainly?” Rachel’s voice was soft and understanding.

Tessa spent a moment studying her reflection. She seemed to look beyond her appearance and right into her own mind. “I can’t say that this is  _ love _ . For all I know, I’m too young, like you’ve said, to really understand what it is. But there is someone, in fact. Someone with whom I enjoy spending time, who is fun and honest and open; so easy and good to talk to - and, I daresay, someone who is quite good-looking with it all.”

“You’re not really smiling, even as you speak of him.”

To that, Tessa did smile ironically, remarking her maid’s perception. “That’s because nothing will come out of this, whatever this is, anyway. He and I are told to never even think in the romantic direction. Society won’t approve of it. We stand on different rungs of that ladder, and yet, I consider him my equal. Me being of higher birth means absolutely nothing - at least, to me. It hasn’t prevented us from being friends since we were practically babies.”

“Do you think Scott feels the same about you?” 

Tessa’s head whipped around so quickly that her braid flopped against her cheek. “How did you - why do you think I’m talking about Scott?” 

“I couldn’t help but notice how you blush when he looks at you, and cast your eyes down, when he doesn’t.” Rachel’s expression had a sly twinkle now. Tessa sighed a bit, not able to hide a smile this time.

“I don’t know what is happening to me lately. I was always so sure that Scott and I are friends, but now I see myself…” The rest of the sentence seemed stuck in her throat. Her maid waited patiently, tidying the clothes and other things around the room. 

Tessa took a deep breath, and reasoned that she might as well say it openly. “I see myself having...more with Scott. Loving him, not as a friend, but you know? How grown men and women love each other. In the future.” She uttered a soft groan and buried her face in her hands. “God, this is so embarrassing. I feel like a child with her head in the clouds.”

“That sounds like a lovely thing, and nothing to be ashamed of,” Rachel said gently.

“Yet I don’t even know how he feels about me. Sometimes I see these glimpses that he might share my sentiments, but then, I shake myself out of it and think: goodness, I’m such a naive little girl, to make an elephant out of a fly.”

“Perhaps the fly really is an elephant, though.”

“Right. The elephant in the proverbial room is that I’m too scared to address it with him directly. In any case, I don’t know how to even act upon it, if it turns out Scott feels the same way as I do.” Tessa climbed into bed, as Rachel set out to leave the bedroom. She smiled kindly, now fully at ease with her mistress. 

“Then, milady, I wish you all the courage in the world to settle such an important matter.”

When she walked out, shutting the door quietly, Tessa spent an hour staring up at the ceiling, with its dancing shadows from the candlelight. Courage...it was easy to imagine confessing everything to Scott, but what if he misunderstood her - or worse, brushed it off as a joke? A part of her protested that he was too close of a friend to her to laugh at her feelings, but wouldn’t it make their friendship bizarre if she introduced this complicated dimension to it? 

For now, she resolved to be silent. Until she puzzled it out herself, as much as she could.

 

_ June 1918 _

At the lyceum, all the girls seemed to be under the general agreement that Gabriella Papadakis was a snob, and Tessa wasn’t an exception to that opinion. It was the most obvious in the most superficial details, like behavior and appearance. The other girls wore simple blouses and skirts, and Gabriella made a point of preening around in her crêpe de chine dresses that were obviously new and expensively tailored. She gloated of being from Paris, and laughed if the girls garbled their pronunciations in French class. She carried herself like she was at least a princess, and being a baron’s daughter was in reality the lowest rank of them all, if one examined the aristocratic hierarchy. In short, she acted like it was an honor that she attended the lyceum with the others, for both the people and the school itself.

One afternoon at lunch, Tessa came back to the dining room from the ladies’ to an unexpected scene. All the girls were crowded around Gabriella’s seat, evidently persuading her of something. Tessa sighed. That seat has otherwise been hers, until Gabriella usurped it on the second day of school.  _ “Je vais m’asseoir ici et nulle part ailleurs,”  _ she told everyone firmly, and Tessa yielded only to avoid a conflict. The more outspoken girls, like Meagan Duhamel and Madison Hubbell tried to cause just that, but Gabriella’s smirking was impenetrable. 

Now, Tessa was hardly eager to find out what issue there was this time. The maid that monitored at lunchtime also stepped out, and the atmosphere for squabbling was there.

“Ah, Tessa! Finally you’re back,” exclaimed Maia Shibutani. “Please, tell Gabriella that she needs to do everything the way we do!”

“What exactly is the matter now?” Tessa asked wearily.

“I just wanted to know who will clean away _mon couvert_ today. I can’t keep doing that myself, can I?” Gabriella tossed her head and stared ahead, while everyone groaned in defeat.

Tessa crossed her arms. “Why not? We always do it ourselves, because we aren’t spoiled, lazy, and selfish. This way, we show gratitude to those who prepared and served our food.”

“This lyceum of yours is a circus! Ladies cleaning up dishes! What is next, polishing the floor? I refuse!” Gabriella’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“Well, then you’ll receive the lowest mark for conduct,” Kaitlyn said triumphantly.

“That’s in the best case. In the worst, we all will receive bad grades, because of you,” Kaetlyn Osmond piped up. 

Gabriella gave them all a glare and stood up in a huff, turning her back on the girls. Tessa sighed, and stepped to her table spot. 

“What concerns this exact place, you don’t need to worry. I’ll clean it up myself.” The girls met this with shocked gasps. “Since it’s my chair again, and my table spot,” she went on calmly, gathering the dishes and napkins. “But, from now on, please be kind to do what you’re told. That way, neither you nor all of us will have problems.”

_ “C’est le point de l’injustice et de l’arbitraire!”  _ Gabriella burst out, all indignation. “I am going to talk to  _ madame la directrice.  _ Also, I am new here in your country and in your school. You have to show more respect.” At that, the majority of the girls cackled.

“Look, she’s here for a few days and already wanting to prattle on us!” 

“You were new on the first day, Gabi. Now you’re old,” Tessa rejoined. “And you have to do what everyone else is doing, and be like everyone else.”

Gabriella let out a very inelegant snarl of frustration, and stomped out of the dining room without waiting for the monitor to escort them to the next class.

Her behavior didn’t improve during the dancing lesson. This one was given by Madame Lauzon herself, a woman who was as strict with her students as she was fair and kind. Tessa knew for a fact she would not take Gabriella’s complaints and acting out seriously.

“Today, we will be learning a new dance, called the foxtrot,” Marie-France announced, and the girls all murmured to each other, pleasantly surprised. Before, they have only learned the waltz, the polonaise, and the lancier. 

“It’s becoming a very fashionable dance in England and around Europe. I think you all would benefit from learning it - plus, it’s fun, and, if all goes well, we will demonstrate it at this summer’s Ilderton Fair,” she informed the girls.

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Kaitlyn exclaimed, and the rest of the girls seemed to agree. Only Gabriella raised a disdainful eyebrow.

“We’re going to dance at a  _ fair?  _ Like...entertainers?” She scoffed. “This school is getting ridiculous. I’ve had the best dancing tutor in Paris, and now I’m going to hop around in front of factory workers and  _ farmers?”  _

“Well,  _ I  _ think the performance sounds very fun,” Tessa cut in. “And you sound very boring. I personally plan to dance at the fair and have a good time.” 

“Me too,” said Kaetlyn.

“So do I,” Maia piped up.

“Us, too,” said Madison, and Meagan nodded eagerly. 

Even Cassandra Hilborn confessed, “I have to say, it sounds interesting.” 

“Cass, you’re going to be part of this vaudeville?” Gabriella’s mouth hung open, as she shook her head firmly. “I thought the better of you.”

“I ask you to be calm, mesdemoiselles,” Marie-France interjected, a hint of a smile on her face. “Of course, we won’t force anyone who genuinely does not want to participate, but I agree with the opinion that the performance at the fair will be a lovely experience.”

Gabriella pursed her lips - as she always did, when Marie-France did not agree with her. Tessa knew she hoped to not be contradicted, because their headmistress was French, just like Gabriella, but apparently Madame Lauzon knew better.

“Now, please get into pairs. Mademoiselle Hubbell, stand next to Mademoiselle Duhamel. Mesdemoiselles Virtue and Weaver, you can dance together. Now, Mademoiselle Hilborn, your partner will be Mademoiselle Shibutani, and you, Mademoiselle Papadakis, will dance with Mademoiselle Osmond.” 

“Me? Dance with Kaetlyn?” Gabriella was staring at Marie-France like that was a terrible insult, and Tessa immediately felt bad for poor Kaetlyn, whose friendly behavior didn’t warrant such a dismissal. Gabi always partnered with Cassandra, and she seemed to be impressed by her desk mate’s apparent worldliness and sophistication. 

“Yes. Why not, Baroness? Do you have any hard feelings towards Mademoiselle Osmond?” Marie-France looked confused, as Kaetlyn stood awkwardly and Gabriella glowered. 

Tessa spoke up, feeling still more worse for the unassuming Kaetlyn, and almost angry at Gabriella. “It’s just that Mademoiselle Papadakis thinks it’s beneath her dignity to socialize with those who have never been to Paris,” she said, looking at the girl pointedly, who rolled her eyes in her trademark way. 

“Yes, I had a very good dancing tutor in Paris, and so I’m not eager to dance with just  _ anyone,”  _ she huffed. 

“Kaet isn’t  _ anyone,”  _ Meagan cut in sharply. “Why are you treating her this way?” The girls carried on, accusing Gabriella of arrogance in a flurry of hurt voices. 

More clapping. “Please be calm. Paris, you say?” Now, Marie-France was amused again. “Then show us, mademoiselle, what you have been learning in France with your tutor.”

“Gabriella, I can dance with Kaetlyn, if you’d rather dance with Cassandra,” the shy Maia spoke, looking at the French girl encouragingly. Tessa marveled at how much a peacemaker Maia was, no matter what stunts Gabriella pulled off. 

“May I dance with Kaetlyn, Madame Lauzon?” she asked Marie-France. The headmistress nodded. 

“You may, but I have to encourage you to try dancing with different partners in the future. You all have to get used to mingle with lots of people on the dance floor,” she instructed. Gabriella shook her head, but offered no more snark. 

“Now, mesdemoiselles, get into position. The one of you dancing the male takes three steps forward as you glide, and the third one is with her right foot, outside the one dancing the female.”

Tessa sighed again, and put one hand on Kaitlyn’s shoulder, taking her hand with the other. She always danced the ‘woman’ while Kaitlyn danced the ‘man’ during their lessons in the lyceum. 

“What’s that Gabriella’s issue? She thinks she’s the bee’s knees, with her dress and her Paris and her nose in the air,” she whispered, once the music teacher began playing at the piano. 

“Maybe she just needs time,” mused Kaitlyn, stepping around and letting her turn. “Even bad people might change. I don’t mind her, myself, as long as she leaves me alone and stops getting on poor Maia’s and Kaet’s nerves.”

“Me too,” Tessa nodded in agreement. Next to them, Gabriella danced with a very haughty manner, never hesitating to make a caustic remark every time Cassandra tread on her toes. 

The learning of the foxtrot passed with little more incidents, and Marie-France informed them that she decided to make their performance at the fair count as their first dancing exam. 

“And the jury to evaluate us is, of course, coarse and unworldly peasants,” Gabriella grumbled, full of sarcasm. “Oh, if only Maman and Papa knew what these English schools are like, they would take me back to France in a second…”

“Throughout your life, you will have to interact with people of the most different of social levels. It is up to you, as a noblewoman, to treat them with equal respect and to cast away your bias,” Marie-France told her. It was incredible, how much patience the woman possessed, where the haughty girl was concerned.

“Yes, Gabi, we’re all tired to hear of your dislike of anyone who holds no title,” Tessa spoke up. “We treat all of our llderton staff very well, and wouldn’t dream to presume ourselves higher and better than them, no matter what it looks like on the outside.” 

Classes ended that day with no one taking Gabriella’s complaints to heart, as always. Tessa kept reflecting on it on the way home. For a moment, she imagined what Gabriella would say if she knew of her friendship with Scott. Truthfully, she hadn’t confided her intricate feelings to anyone but Rachel yet - not even her mother or Jordan. As it were, she had little time to think on it herself, being so busy with the preparation for the fair.

 

The designated day was a perfectly clear-skied and sunny late June afternoon. The pole marquees were set up all over the plot of grassy land adjacent to the Virtues’ park, boasting refreshments and souvenirs for the guests. A stage for the bands and other performers was also organized, and the string musicians practiced strains of their assigned melodies. 

Tessa shivered, when she laid eyes on that platform as she was walking by. She could admit to herself that she was now a bit apprehensive about their class’s upcoming performance of the foxtrot. Dancing with only Marie-France’s attention seemed easy enough, but to perform where a crowd of people would be looking at you…

Tessa couldn’t help but chuckle at herself.  _ You want to become a couturiere, and yet are nervous about a bit of dancing for an audience.  _ She admitted that she still had to shake some of her natural shyness in certain situations, and resolved to dance in spite of all that, right this afternoon. She did love to dance, even if she hadn’t done much of it in public yet. Idly, she wondered what sorts of young men would attend the fair, other than the expected farmer boys and hired hands. Would there be many gentlemen that would ask her?

Would  _ Scott _ ask her to dance with him?

Tessa suddenly realized that she didn’t even know if Scott liked to dance - or could, for that matter. That was one of the few topics that they somehow never thought to discuss. Still, she was inclined to think he knew how, since he’d attended last year’s fair...and probably danced with other girls there.

That had given Tessa pause.

Scott. Her friend. The boy who had her increasing interest. Dancing with other girls _(talking to them?_ _Flirting?)_

A dance dictated modesty, above all, but still demanded a certain closeness. And she did  _ not _ want Scott to have that closeness with someone else. Wanted his arm around her waist and her hand in his all for herself, and never for some strange girl again. Talking to someone was well and fine enough, she supposed, but the flirting, the touching...

Her feet stopped walking with that unbidden thought, and she forced herself out of a mental image where Scott danced with a laughing, mischief-eyed female partner. But then again, he’d never acted as if he closely associated with any other girl their age, except herself.  _ Was she making an elephant out of a fly, again? _

Then, she pictured another situation: Scott coming up to her, with his usual warm smile, extending his hand, and saying - 

“Lady Tessa?”

Tessa blinked, turning her head to see him walking up towards her, and finally noticed that she must have been standing without movement on the dance ground next to the stage for quite a while. Scott was approaching her with his unchanging gentle and friendly smile.

“Overseeing the preparations, eh?”

Tessa returned the smile faintly, for a multitude of confusing reasons. It was, abruptly, so disconcerting to stand only a few steps away from him and his proud, strong stature and his bright eyes, especially in light of her imagining of a dance with him. No, any sort of preparation currently going on where the fair was concerned had left her mind and her sight, except for her thoughts about the boy in front of her. In fact, she only now noticed him carrying a toolbox. Then he was coming here to help, as he would always. Or to see her?

“Not that I’m overseeing - I was just thinking about the upcoming test of my bravery,” she tried to make light of her nervousness. Scott already knew about their performance today, as she had shared it with him as soon as she came back from the lyceum on the day Marie-France made the announcement. Since then, he had extensively praised and encouraged her where dancing was concerned.

“I know you’re both skilled enough and brave enough to do it, Tess,” he said softly, swinging the toolbox a little as he spoke to her. 

Tessa thanked him with another modest smile, feeling an urge to take a deep breath. It was all too much for her: the warm, lovely day; Scott’s smile and gaze, as sweet and comforting as the sunshine itself. 

And how she wanted to kiss him. Just like that, without preamble, without even fully comprehending trivial things such as  _ why  _ or  _ why now _ . It was all she wanted at the moment. To come up to him, put her hands around his face, and touch her lips to his. Just once. She found herself so near him that she could see how the cotton of his shirt on his chest rose and fell with every breath. This must have been that  _ spell  _ that came over the infatuated in fairytales. 

Scott’s eyes looked soft but also...intense. Not sparkling and teasing as they normally were, when she looked into them. Both of them forgot, for the briefest instant, where and who they were, because, for the first time, both had the choice to act on impulse or resist. Yes, she was sure he had forgotten a little himself.  _ Was he wanting to kiss her too, right at this instant? _

Tessa resisted first, of course. As the ever-logical one. 

“I must go and greet my classmates with Mama. They should be arriving soon,” she spoke hesitantly, grimacing a bit like it was the most unpleasant of duties. Scott blinked and his left eyebrow twitched slightly, as if he too was breaking out of the same spell.

“Sure, kiddo.” The word slipped out of his mouth, strangely out of place in this new not-very-platonic mood between them, she noticed.  _ Of course, he didn’t want to kiss me. How can one call their friend kiddo and wish to kiss them? Ridiculous.  _

“I’ll see you at the fair, then.” Tessa stepped away and turned her head slightly, feeling his eyes on her all the same. 

“Yes. See you at the fair, T.” Scott seemed to have made a decision, quick as lightning, and nodded, half to her, half to his own thoughts. Tessa already started to walk away from him, but his voice made her pause and listen, looking back at him.

“I think your dress is very pretty.”

“Thank you, Scott.” She found herself helpless to resist reciprocating his smile. He was so friendly, so affectionate and familiar. Could she risk all that for venturing to change their relationship? With another nod, Scott finally went to join the workers who were putting the finishing touches on the stage platform. Tessa followed the movement of his fingers as he rolled up his shirtsleeves and went to work.

_ Ladies cannot stare at men in public,  _ her mind chastised, in her mother’s voice. Immediately, she felt how blood rushed to her cheeks, reminding her to move her eyes away.

_ But I’m not ‘staring at men.’ I’m looking at Scott, my friend.  _

A great sigh of confusion escaped her throat. She’d tackle it all one thing at a time. Beginning with the upcoming fair.

 

All things considered, the foxtrot performance went very well, indeed. Their class had made the audience applaud and even call out praise, Tessa remarked, when they finished and paused for a minute to take in all the appreciation. She had found Scott in the crowd before she was conscious of picking him out with her gaze: he sat towards the back, but when their eyes met, his grin widened, and he applauded harder, mouthing something. A phrase that looked suspiciously like  _ You were wonderful.  _

How was she to react, if not to smile back at him, feeling like she could soar above that stage on wings? Uplifted by his praise, she might have done a dozen more dances, if she was required to. And yet, Tessa let the high of the performance subside naturally, as she descended the stage, intent on going to the lemonade stand to get herself a glass. Seeing Scott’s outspoken appreciation of her dancing had left her mouth bizarrely dry, as much as it did please her.

She’d walked up to Molson’s Beverages, weaving through the throng of the fair goers. Her sights were set on the tray of rosewater lemonade, and she already anticipated how delicious it would be for her throat, parched in the summer heat.

“Hello, Mr. Molson,” she greeted the elderly vendor, and his face broke into a smile of recognition.

“Good afternoon, young lady,” Molson said, kindly. “What may I offer you today?” He gestured at the row of trays with the glasses.

“A glass of rosewater lemonade, please.” She’d already pulled out money from her purse —

“Add to it a pint of beer, and I’ll pay.”

A sun-bronzed, sinewy hand stretched towards the vendor, offering a handful of change, and Tessa stared at it in astonishment. Of course, both the voice and the arm led her to turn towards their owner and see that it indeed was Scott. 

“Oh - you really don’t need to, Scott—”  _ Must she always blush like madness, near him? _

“You had treated all of us to such a great performance, Lady Tessa, that I thought to repay you and treat you to some refreshment,” he said, flashing a small grin at her flustered state.

She couldn’t help but share in his magnanimous mood. Why not accept this token from a friend?

“Oh. I thank you, then,” she said, and Scott, ever smiling, exchanged his money for a tall tumbler of beer and a crystal glass of the pinkish yellow lemonade. 

“Enjoy,” Molson told them, with a very suspicious twinkle in his eye, Tessa remarked. They replied their thanks in unison, and stepped away.

She felt Scott’s eyes on her as she took her first sip, but that didn’t prevent her from sighing with appreciation at the taste of the tart and sweet drink on her tongue. She’d lowered her glass to see him quirking a playful eyebrow and have a sip of his beer.

“This is my most favorite summer drink, ever,” she explained. “Thanks so much for paying. I feel a little bad, don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you,” she continued, cautiously, following him to a free wicker table off to the side.

Scott shrugged, and beckoned for her to sit, putting his glass on the table and pulling out a chair for her. “That’s all nonsense, Tess. I wanted to pay for your lemonade. Now I’m glad I did, seeing as you like it so much.”

_ Oh goodness, since when was there a dimple in his cheek?  _ Tessa felt her palm growing damp. Was it only from holding the glass of lemonade, or from something else entirely, something she was almost too timid to acknowledge?

Just to give herself something to do, she continued to take small sips. They were silent for the amount of time that it took them to finish drinking. 

Abruptly, the glasses were empty, and Tessa was at a loss. Usually so loquacious when it came to conversations with Scott, she could find no interesting subject with which to start. Her attention drew to his fingers, blithely drumming on the table top in tune with the light luncheon melody that the band was performing. Once or twice, he glanced over at Tessa with a raised eyebrow and a smiling gaze, and she had to gather all her strength not to keep blushing. It came to her mind that he might have been searching for a way to talk, too, and so was masking it under his usual affable air. 

Tessa swallowed to ease the renewed dryness in her mouth. “It’s so lucky that it’s not raining today,” she said, softly, and immediately, her cheeks filled with heat.  _ Weather _ , of all things, was the least fascinating thing she could have jumped upon. After a painful beat, she peeked at Scott, and was taken aback by his softer, less teasing smile. Phew. Maybe he did not think she was boring.

“You’re right, T,” he agreed, all sincerity. “Wouldn’t want it to rain on our parade today.” His wink told Tessa...well, what exactly? His eyes met hers, again. “I want to ask, though…” A flash of afternoon sun flew across his face, and the hazel hue sparked green. “If you wanted to--”

“Scott! Can you please come here, son?”

That was Joe, calling from a short distance away, and then he noticed Tessa. “Greetings, milady,” he said warmly. Then, more insistently, “Scott, your mother wants your help.”

Scott let out a barely audible sigh, but then said, as brightly as ever, “Alright, Tess, I should go. But I’ll see you later?” There was such hope in his expression…

“Yes. I’ll see you.”

As Tessa stood up, listening to his carefree whistling while he made his way towards the house, she realized that the band had started to play a waltz.

 

The lyceum girls congregated on a bench near the dance floor, watching the couples. Tessa joined them, now that Scott was busy elsewhere, but she couldn’t hold his work against him. He did look regretful to having to leave her so suddenly, and she already looked forward to his return. In the meantime, she was well and fine with spending some more time with her girl friends. 

Their small group looked like a flutter of pastel-colored butterflies perched together on a flower. The girls chattered and laughed and ate their ices, all the while whispering behind gloved hands about all the waltzers in turn, as both nobleman and servant took to the dance floor. For once, Tessa was relieved that Gabriella didn’t criticize anything about the fair yet, in spite of her affectedly bored expression.  _ She probably expected to have men falling over asking her to dance _ , Tessa snickered inwardly.  _ Take that, Miss I Had the Best Tutor.  _

“Say, Tessa, is that there your sister, dancing with Sir William Foyle?” Kaitlyn’s attention was drawn, unsurprisingly, to Jordan, dancing in the middle of all the pairs with her partner. Jordan was her usual cheerful self, while the said sir looked stunned of his fortune to have her as a partner.

“That is she.” 

“Did your parents not invite the Marquess of Dorset? I heard from my parents that yours want to engage him and your sister,” Madison piped up.

“He had business to do, and his mother preferred not to travel here without him. I mean, she may have had reasons, herself, so it wasn’t a slight to us at all,” Tessa explained.

“How lucky for Jordan, if she accepts the Marquess,” Cassandra sighed, looking at the dancers wistfully. No one was asking her to dance, either. 

“I’ll have you know, my parents are looking for a fiancé for me, too,” Gabriella interrupted, clearly dissatisfied with the lack of attention to herself. The girls only exchanged skeptical glances.

“Right, some kind of pastry chef,” Meagan snorted sarcastically, between large spoonfuls of her ice cream. 

“You wouldn’t even have a pastry chef, with that horrible brash personality of yours -” 

The impending quarrel was silenced, by the sight of no one else but Andrew Poje suddenly striding up to the girls. Gabriella and Meagan forgot all about their spat and immediately sat up straight, preening with smiles like racegoers that were betting on the same stallion. Yet, Andrew was smiling at no one but Tessa.   
“Do you dance, Tessa?”

Tessa glanced sideways, to see Kaitlyn’s blush and downcast eyes. No, she wouldn’t disrespect her friend’s feelings. “Not just now, thank you. But I think Kaitlyn does, don’t you?” She nudged Kaitlyn as discreetly as possible.

“I’m loath to offend you,” said Andrew, though he directed his attention at Kaitlyn with obvious interest now.

“You would do nothing of the sort,” Tessa assured him. And then, Kaitlyn was looking back at him with a smile of her own, nervous and slightly disbelieving. 

“Milady,” Andrew said, offering her a gallant hand.

“Sir,” she replied, and Tessa was nearly sure she glimpsed a spark fly between them. Off they went, hand in hand, met with the stunned gapes of all the girls, save for Tessa, who could hardly suppress a satisfied grin. 

She turned back to them and saw the shock on their faces. “What? Don’t tell me I spilled ice cream on my dress.”

“You...you seriously just turned down  _ Andrew Poje?”  _ Madison was all but speechless. Kaetlyn was shaking her head, and Gabriella seemed affronted that her important person was overlooked yet again.

“I couldn’t accept a dance from him, when Kaitlyn was sitting next to me,” Tessa replied evenly, tapping her toe lighty in tune with the music.

“Well, you might have still accepted, a dance isn’t a proposal. It’s  _ politesse _ ,” Cassandra mused.

“It’s not  _ politesse _ , it’s foolishness. Besides, you’re unobservant. Kaitlyn harbors a sentiment towards Andrew, so it was only fair that she dance with him first, and then he may return to me, if he wishes.” Though, judging from how Kaitlyn was laughing and how Andrew reciprocated it, Tessa didn’t really think he would - not that she minded, anyway. Her attention strayed to Scott’s brothers, who were also dancing - Charlie with Nicoletta Woods, a schoolteacher, and Danny with a brown-haired, willowy girl whom Tessa did not recognize at the moment. She looked at them, who were obviously courting the girls, and instinctively wondered what was taking Scott so long in coming back from whatever he had to do. 

She’d been pulled into a fervent rating of the ladies’ toilettes, ranking from the best dressed (Jordan won, to no one’s surprise), and worst (a lady whose ostrich-feather headband looked rather sad and droopy). 

“I apologize. I was wondering if I may ask Lady Tessa to dance.”

The voice was so smooth and low, supremely confident...was it truly... _ he? _

Overcome with a strange timidity, Tessa raised her eyes. There he stood, just where Andrew had, in front of her. Scott. All crisp white shirt, warm hazel eyes, and dazzling smile. The sight of that smile sent goosebumps stampeding up and down her limbs.

_ He was asking her? _

“Sure, I’d like to very much,” she said, praying that her voice didn’t actually tremble like it sounded it did. And then her hand was in his and he was leading her onto the floor. His palm was so warm and soft, that Tessa caught herself thinking that nothing else would be better.

Until he placed a second gentle hand on the back of her waist, as another waltz commenced. Dear God...what was this? Scott, this so familiar and unworldly friend of hers, danced like the most refined gentleman, stepping lightly and gracefully, as if he’d just finished a lyceum class or two, himself. Except Madame Lauzon didn’t teach them what was the correct etiquette for when there were a few breaths towards the lips of your dancing partner and you desperately wanted to close that distance, until you blushed and yet continued to want it. When you tried not to make it too obvious that you were breathing in the dancing partner’s scent, pine soap and clean cotton. What she also never learned was how to keep thinking normal thoughts when the gentle warmth of your partner’s hand seeped right from under your dress and into the skin of your waist.

She was lost, properly lost now, in Scott’s eyes, those familiar eyes, into which she had looked hundreds of times in the past. They were so different now, in an elusive, fascinating way. Andrew’s eyes had had twilight in them, but Scott’s were the very golden hour of the day. As handsome as Andrew was, he held no match for the attraction that Tessa felt towards her friend. No, how could she ever think she could dance with someone other than Scott? It seemed as natural as if theirs was at least a tenth dance, and not the first ever.

Words, conversations were possible, but unnecessary, as they circled, and circled, and circled around the other couples that were probably not there at all. Tessa did not concern herself with trivial worries like  _ they will look at us  _ or  _ they will judge us.  _ Nothing at all mattered. Just Scott’s arm around her, her hand in his, and the music twirling around them. She felt so light and airy in his arms, and desperately wished for the waltz to never end.

It did, as soon as she made that wish. Scott bowed, and she curtsied back, automatically, hardly believing that that was it. If anyone asked her, she would have said that the dance went on for hours, at the least. 

Scott’s eyes were still sparkling, though, and there was a slight flush to his cheeks, making him so very endearing. Tessa had to resist smoothing his mussed hair off his forehead.

“Thank you, Tess,” he murmured, with arresting intimacy.  _ His husky voice...it was definitely not that of a small boy anymore.  _

“Thank  _ you,”  _ she replied softly. A smile, a nod, and a squeeze of her hand as he let go - and then they were walking into separate directions.

Tessa swore that she was almost ready to soar above the entire estate.

 

*

_ He’d asked Tessa to dance. No, wrong. He’d asked Lady Tessa Jane Virtue, of Ilderton Hall, to dance, in front of a huge gathering of people, her friends, her neighbors, and possibly, God himself. And she accepted. And it was the best damn waltz of his life. _

Scott never remembered feeling so free and buoyant. People smiled back to him as he passed them, and he knew it was because he was smiling so hard, and not even at them all. His body still buzzed with the music. His hands still felt the lingering softness of Tessa’s palms; his eyes still saw her sparkling jade ones. 

Tessa. His friend, his Tess, danced with him. He was so, so glad that he mustered up the courage to do what he had wished for these past few weeks. Did it mean that she might reciprocate his increasing affection? After all, it was only a dance, but her shy smile, from those rose-petal lips that he so wanted to kiss (as much as he tried to stifle that thought), and her looks, and just the sensation of  _ her  _ in his arms was exhilarating.

A wolf whistle rudely yanked him right out of those castles in the sky. 

“Hey, womanizer.”

Grumbling inwardly, he turned around, to see the people he’d wanted to come across the least. Namely, Jake, a footman from the neighboring manor, and two of his fellow dim-witted servants. 

“What do you want?” he asked, warily, crossing his arms. Jake and the two were never friendly to him, but hearing the word in relation to himself made Scott uncomfortable. It was why he didn’t keep walking away in the first place.

“You looked pretty cozy with Miss Lady out there.”

“Don’t remember that being any of your business,” Scott shot back, immediately assessing the situation. The trio was slowly advancing to him, and they were in a semi-secluded area of the grounds. What did these guys want from him today? Just a bit of schoolyard bullying about his dancing? Thinking they could mug him of spare change? Normally, they would bother him far less, seeing as he went everywhere with Danny and Charlie, but it was flee or stand up to them this time. 

“Just gotta say this, be careful, Scotty,” Jake sneered. Scott felt anger prickling at him. Hearing the nickname from that bloke made him feel stupid, unlike when his family used it. “Unless you’re havin’ special plans with the pretty little thing?”

_ Oh no you don’t, jackass. Don’t you dare talk about her. _

Scott was barely aware of his fists clenching. This was worse than just a little spat between enemies. He had to shut them up somehow, before he went right into it, and let those fists do the talking.

“What are you on about, dipshit? Lady Tessa’s not for you to talk about,” he snapped, further infuriated by the sounds of the three guys cackling. 

“What, you  _ like  _ that frigid, fancy little doll? Just so you know, she’s the same as any slut under the fine dress. They all have the same rump and all -”

But Scott did not wait to find out any more similarities between Tessa and other women. The other instant, he was right there in their faces, and his answer to Jake was a well-placed hook with an arm that, although unprofessional, was ready to fight. He found out, in a flash, what it was like to _see red_ , and did not stop to consider that the enemy outweighed him in both number and size. He fought as desperately as he never thought himself capable of, and the efforts that Jake’s cronies made to pull him off the guy only egged him on. He threw punch after kick, only one wild thought pounding in his aching head: _How dare he insult her. No one insults my Tessa. No one. No one. No one. I will shut them up. I will._

The two spare opponents rammed their heads together and sank to the ground, cursing up a storm. And then, Scott was being dragged off, still thrashing towards Jake, who, in fact, looked worse for wear and shocked at how vicious his attacker turned out. Panting, Scott turned to see who was holding him in a hard grip, and saw the equally astonished faces of Patrick and Charlie. Eric, another footman from Jake’s estate, ran up to him and tried to help his limp body up, being met with a suggestion to ‘sod off,’ but eventually complying. The last thing Scott saw him do is make an evocative hand gesture his way, as Eric marched him away.

“Scott! Heavens, Scott, are you all right? What happened?”

Still flushed and disoriented, Scott raised his head to see Tessa rushing over to the scene, so fast that her straw hat fell off, but she made no effort to pause and catch it.  _ “Scott,”  _ she choked, sinking down to kneel near him. A new spell of dizziness overcame him, and he lowered his head to get it to subside, when he felt Chiddy and Charlie raise him gently and, in spite of his protests, lead him over to a bench, conveniently near.

An instant, and his head was pillowed on what felt like soft thighs, in such a blissful contrast to his body resting on the hard oak of the bench. 

“Yes, you can go, boys,” he heard Tessa say. His closed eyes burned, his body ached terribly, but his heart quickened, from her proximity. He assumed Chiddy and Charlie complied and left, because it all was quiet now, other than the distant chirping of the birds and Tessa’s quiet breath, as she touched her handkerchief, so softly, to his nose.  _ Did he break it? More accurately, it had been broken. _

“Does it hurt like that?” Tessa’s voice was so gentle, so soothing and concerned. The soft linen of the handkerchief smelled divinely of strawberries. It smelled like its owner.

“No,” he whispered, afraid to breathe and have this blissful comfort disappear.

Another short spell of silence descended, as she finished her ministrations on his long-suffering nose.

“Your handkerchief is ruined,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.” 

“You honestly think I care about a doily more than your well-being?”

Scott said nothing, but felt his face color again. He had no wish to insinuate that Tessa was materialistic, but he could not help feeling stupid and immature at this point, even if he had meant to defend her with the reckless fight.

“Scott, listen. Why did you get into that brawl?”

He cracked his eyes open. Tessa was folding the handkerchief very slowly and carefully - as if the blood-stained fabric could also feel pain. Her voice, a touch reproachful, was nonetheless gentle and concerned. He opened his mouth to answer, and ended up licking his suddenly dry lips: she had put her hand on his head and started stroking his hair.

“I...because…” He struggled to talk normally. Her fingers were so  _ tender.  _ “Because they said very disrespectful things about you.”

“What sort of things?” The smile she directed down at him made him feel, strangely, like a medieval knight who defended his lady’s honor. 

“I can’t repeat that to you,” he said firmly, earning a snort.

“Yes, you can. Come on, tell me, do you take me for a child? I deserve to know what foolish chit-chat almost got you seriously injured.” Now she sounded exasperated, but her hand in his hair hadn’t stopped the caress. He gulped involuntarily.

“They...they were saying...quite vulgar things. That they wanted...wanted…”  _ God, this was painful, worse than his nose and lip _ . “They were speculating about how you’d be in...with no clothes on,” he exhaled, on a rush of embarrassment and residual anger at Jake and his goons. 

Silence. “No clothes on?” Tessa reiterated, in a very quiet voice.

He stubbornly kept his eyes closed, sure that she was blushing as hard as he was. “That’s the most censored version of what they said.” He let her work it out on her own, let the insinuation sit between them. 

When Tessa spoke again, her voice sounded surprisingly mundane and unimpressed. And, thankfully, she didn’t press him for exact details. “Oh, Scott. So they said  _ this _ , and you immediately jumped in to fight? You can’t beat the stupidity out of someone.” There was that exasperated tone again, and her hand in his hair finally paused. 

Scott finally opened his eyes to glare at her. “I couldn’t stand there and listen to it. It was...filthy. I can’t let anyone disrespect you, not in my presence.”

She looked down at him, aghast. “Three against one! Those daft cowards. What if they killed you?” 

There was so much explicit fear in her voice now, that Scott scanned her face to determine her expression. He struggled to pull himself up and off her lap at last. To his surprise, his face hurt less now.

He smiled at her anxiety, taking her hand in his. “Nonsense, Tess. A couple of numbskulls could hardly manage to kill me. Just maybe cripple me a bit. It’d be worth it, though,” he cracked, but, as she gasped and paled, he realized that his humor might just have been a bit too dark for the moment. “Oh, God, sorry, sorry,” he comforted her instantly, squeezing her hand tighter. “Sorry, that was a stupid joke.”

Tessa inhaled raggedly. “When I saw you bleeding...that was the exact opposite of a joke. Please never fight anyone again. Not even for me. It was chivalrous of you, really, but I care more about your safety than about someone saying disrespectful things about me.”

The words made Scott feel as if someone spilled a cup of warm tea inside his chest. Even in her concern for his well-being, she was so beautiful. And he thought in that moment that he was willing to fight tooth and nail hundreds of times more, if only to see this earnest tenderness and care in her eyes. Directed towards him _ ,  _ Scott Moir, the youngest footman of Ilderton. The luckiest man therein. 

_ And yet,  _ a nasty little voice whispered in his head,  _ how are you different from those hooligans? You want the same, admit it. You want to have her just like they insinuated, only in prettier words, and only if she agrees. But you do.  _

Tessa had been radiant in her lacy tea dress. The simple summer attire was like an elegant setting for the jewel of her beauty. 

Scott stole a covert look in that direction.  And was  _ consumed _ by an unfamiliar longing.

Shockingly explicit thoughts crowded his brain; he no longer regarded her as a friend. He found himself desiring her as a woman. Wanting to have her under him and over him - in bed, yes. He had no idea if it appalled or intrigued him more. What he did know was that he became afraid of those traitorous thoughts immediately. Clenched his teeth and scratched at his arm reflexively, as if to punish himself for thinking  _ that  _ about  _ her. _

He and his brothers had been raised with the implicit agreement that they were not to consider the Virtue sisters in a romantic light. Jordan and Tessa were like rare flowers in a greenhouse: for looking, perhaps, but definitely not for touching. But Jordan, the outspoken, confident, showy Jordan, she never affected him that way, unless he meant as an older-sister figure. He remembered that short month where Danny blushed at the sight of her, and how quickly it disappeared. Scott’s own burgeoning feelings for Tessa were so much more complicated, but more wonderful and enduring than his brother’s silly infatuation. On one side, he was aware of the virtually unsurpassable difference between them - girls like her were not for him. On the other, hasn’t she been his friend all his life, his companion in adventures, his confidante and partner in crime? Hadn’t they already lived together through happiness and sadness, and even survived death together? So why was it such a sacrilege to admire the curve of Tessa’s waist, added to everything, to gaze on the softly gleaming hair and to look deeply into her green, laughing eyes? Why was it a crime to imagine  _ being with her _ , fully and freely, not for wealth or status, but for the fact that her mere presence made the world flourish with color for him? 

 

*

They stood in Jim’s study like penitent schoolchildren. Of course, later, word about the fight had traveled to both sets of parents, and they were led back into the house for explanations.

Scott straightened and tried at least appear confident - as much as a person with a broken and barely healed nose could, and ripped clothing, and the rest. “I know it looks as if I had shamed the staff and family in Ilderton with my actions, sir, but I had reasons to do what I did.”

All of it considered, Jim did not look all that furious, merely exasperated, more than anything. “Please, name me the reasons, then.”

Scott swallowed. How was he going to repeat all that Jake said, in front of not only Tessa, but her mother and his own father?

“If it’s possible, milord, I’d rather not reiterate the exact details in the presence of Lady Katherine and Lady Tessa. Be sure that what happened between me and the others was a result of their serious insults to Lady Tessa’s dignity,” he said, quietly but firmly.

Jim’s eyebrow lifted, and he met Kate’s eye. Were they hiding  _ smiles?  _ Scott tossed a glance at Tessa - she was blushing, looking more at the floor than anything else.

“I see. I’d ask you to step out, Kate - and you too, Tessa. Let Scott and I chat for a while,” Jim requested. “Don’t worry, I’m no schoolmaster, to smack any rulers,” he quipped, seeing his wife and daughter’s apprehension. “And Joe - please, reassure Alma that everything is well with your son.”

When everyone else filed out, Scott eyed Jim, again. He was now expected to reveal what made him get into the fight. How was he to find the words?

“Scott, you can be frank with me, but I want to tell you, I know your calm personality, and so understand that you had, as you told me yourself, very good reasons for fighting the poor wretches. What was it that so incensed you?”

“They…” Scott paused, coughed to clear his throat. “They compared Lady Tessa to a woman...to, you know, a woman off the street corner. They talked about her...her figure,” he ended, almost in a whisper, fully aware of being tomato-red in the face. 

Jim pursed his lips for a moment. “Those are indeed grave insults. I’m sad that my daughter fell victim to them. Do you know why they made such claims?”

“Because they’ve seen me dance with Lady Tessa. But it was only one waltz, and I assure you, I acted strictly within the confines of etiquette,” Scott went on, losing his insecurity in favor of earnestness. “I also want to say that, if ever needed, I will again step to Lady Tessa’s defense, any way I can. I...I know fighting is bad. But she is my friend, if you’ll allow me to say that, and friends can’t let others disrespect the people they care about.”

 

Jim silently appraised Scott. He seemed to have grown up overnight. The scrawny, boisterous boy was on the brink of manhood. His stance was tall and confident, and he looked him right back in the eye without a trace of insecurity. This demeanor inspired approval and respect, no matter that he, Jim, was the elder in both status and age. 

“Fine, then. But please try not to think so rashly if anything like that repeats,” the man advised him, and then nodded, signalling that Scott could go. 

The boy’s face brightened. “I promise I will, sir.” He nodded back, and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Scott?”

“Sir?”

He turned back, waiting for Jim to finish. 

“You’re a good lad.”

“Thank you, Your Lordship,” he replied, with a wholly boyish grin, and then opened the door to leave.

Jim watched him go, an unsettling realization coming over him. What was he going to do with these... _ children?  _ He noticed how Scott looked at Tessa, hardly disguising his admiration, how she in turn smiled and blushed in his presence. A voice of caution in his mind firmly urged him to put a stop to the clearly budding romance.

The main problem was that Jim Virtue had absolutely no idea how to do it. He was dealing with people like Scott Moir for perhaps the first time. They were fearless and confident. Proud, literally  _ fighting  _ for what is important to them. His Tessa was rather like that, herself, even if she fought in different ways to get to her goal, and even if that strength was somewhat more concealed. How similar were the two of them, truly. 

With a shrug, Jim shook himself out of that musing. At fifteen and sixteen, their attachment could hardly be serious enough to last for long or go very far, he told himself. The only thing was that he wasn’t very sure of it, if he were honest. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Gabriella says:
> 
> "Je vais m'asseoir ici et nulle part ailleurs" - I will sit here and nowhere else
> 
> "C'est le point de l'injustice et de l'arbitraire" - this is the height of injustice and exorbitance


	13. Contrasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip, a party, and an evening stroll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> First of all, I'd like to very much THANK everyone who reads, and even more so, leaves kudos and comments on this fic. Your sincere feedback and support is one of the major aides to my inspiration and joy as a writer😊
> 
> Second, I love to be back after "only" just under a month of break lol. I promise to keep working on consistency, this being the end of another grad school semester, so more writing time coming (yayyyy!!!)
> 
> Third, I was planning to introduce the angst in this chapter, but then got so carried away with the fluff, that one thing led to another and I had to postpone the other stuff until the next update. It's just I've been writing increasingly larger chapters, and didn't really want to post like a 15K thing just for the sake of advancing the plot. This is just something that's evolving as I write, because as it is, this fic is the longest thing I've ever written AND published, to date, so I'm learning as I go.
> 
> All this said, enjoy!
> 
> Sincerely and humbly,  
> -Author

Kate and Tessa walked out of Jim’s study, and the mother turned to her daughter. She too had something to say to her. After all, she had seen Tessa dance with Scott, in plain view, and she was able to guess what made the normally good-natured boy get into a fight.

“Mama, I know you think Scott is acting like a rascal, but he told me already why he got into a fight. Believe me, I am neither shocked nor offended. I was more scared about his safety than about anything those ill-breds could have said about me,” Tessa rushed to speak, even before her mother opened her mouth. Kate sighed slightly.

“I am glad to hear you not being very upset, though I do wish Scott acted a bit less...heatedly than he did.”

“But you won’t disagree that he did a braver thing than just walking away? I would have defended him too, had anyone insulted him to my face.”

Kate looked into Tessa’s eyes. Her little girl was so _un-little_ now. There were shades of a woman hiding in her, and one day soon, that woman would manifest herself in her entirety. All due to the most complicated yet simplest reason of all - the beginning of love. The Countess could see it in her daughter, in the smallest of mannerisms and words about Scott, and how his very name made her face soften. How to insinuate that their further connection might become frowned upon, without making Tessa hate her and Jim later?

“Tessie, sweetheart, while I am very happy to know you have such a devoted friend, I do have to remind you not to forget about etiquette. You should not allow Scott more than he’s entitled to as your friend. You know what I mean, yes?” She peered at Tessa closely, who blushed and darted her gaze down.

“Yes, Mama. I remember.” Her voice sounded so bitter and disappointed.

“He’s a lovely, good young man, and I am only supportive of your friendship. But still, you’re a young lady, and have to be careful in anything you do in public with him. Yes, that includes dancing,” she said, a little more firmly, as Tessa’s eyes met hers, full of dismay.

“It was only one waltz! Why was that wrong? If you saw us, you should have seen that Scott dances better than any other gentleman would have, out there!” Tessa’s cheeks pinked with indignation, as she crossed her arms.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t raise your voice like that,” Kate told her, making sure to speak gently and patiently. “No, dancing with him wasn’t wrong, per se, but, again, it means that you have to stay careful, and try to not single him out so much in your attention.”

“You’re only saying that because Scott isn’t a nobleman,” Tessa shot back, uncrossing her arms. “Really, you’re the one singling him with attention, making him seem unworthy of my friendship. Then, know this: I _will_ keep dancing with him, every opportunity I get, I _will_ spend time with him, and, most of all, I _will_ stay his friend; and then you and Papa will see that all of your stupid societal manners aren’t worth anything when it comes to having someone who cares about you _not_ for your status!”

Tessa finished the short, vehement speech, her eyes sparkling defiantly. “Now, with your permission, I will go and entertain my classmates. You know, like a proper _young_ _lady._ Farewell, Your Ladyship,” she tossed, in rebellious sarcasm, and marched away.

There was nothing left to do for Kate but to watch her go, knowing that she and Jim will lose this battle someday, no matter the tactic they used. She had no wish at all to insinuate that she looked down on Scott’s class - the Moirs were wonderful people whom she respected immensely. She simply wanted to protect Tessa from imminent heartbreak, but now she could not help but think she only made matters worse.

The door to Jim’s office opened. Scott walked out first. “Good day, madam,” he said respectfully, nodding when he saw Kate. “Sir,” he addressed Jim with another nod.

“Do take care of yourself, Scott,” Kate told him gently. He returned her smile, this half boy, half adult. “As well as you do of Lady Tessa,” she added, seeing that Jim’s eyebrow rose in humor.

“I promise I will,” Scott assured her. His grin turned more boyish, and then he walked away, too.

 

Tessa did not see Scott after they both talked to her parents, but made up her mind to defend him to her mother and father, if need be, later on. Her father did not look too set upon scolding Scott, all the while, but she could not be too careful. And poor Scott, she thought to herself. A niggling sense of guilt wormed its way into her mind - after all, she was the reason he brawled with the boys. She got over the guilt fairly quickly; the hints as to what was said made her angry, because her sense of dignity told her she deserved far better opinion of herself by others.

As she made her way back to the girls and sat down, a completely unexpected thing occurred to her. What was it that Scott’s rivals were saying, discussing her wearing nothing? Tessa suddenly imagined some of her friends, like Kaitlyn, asking her if she’d ever want to see Scott that way.

She inhaled deeply, fighting to put on a casual expression in spite of her furious blush, and continuing to watch the dancers pointedly, while staring through them. She was a young lady, as her mother and every other adult tirelessly reminded her. Did that mean that she had to dismiss such thoughts as indecent and inappropriate and avoid them? Yes, she did imagine kissing Scott once or twice (or, perhaps more), but what of every other thing? While no one told her about the relationship between men and women in detail, she had a vague idea what it entailed. What was it like to want _that_ with a man? Tessa’s usually active imagination decisively drew the line at kissing, at this point in her young life. Sooner or later, everyone got married and did _that_ with each other, she knew it, but where did that leave her and him? For one, she and Scott were not married, and not even in that sort of romantic entanglement, either. At last, when that thought occurred to her, she admitted that she did have some sort of confusing feelings for him. She promptly filed them away for later.

Still, hadn’t Scott been lying in her lap there, on the bench? That definitely was a rather intimate position to get into, and absolutely crossed the limit of etiquette that Mama warned her about. And what did it matter that she was trying to relieve his pain from the injuries: his head was right there over her knees, his messy hair strewn across the lace of her dress, and she did give in a bit. She’d stroked his hair, but there was nothing like _that_ in her motives, it was simply to give him comfort and express sympathy at his predicament. How soft his hair had been to her touch. So soft that it comforted her as well, to caress it.

Had Scott read more into it than she intended?

“Tess? Tessa?”

She blinked several times, until Kaitlyn’s face became clearer.  
“Sorry, what did you say?”

Kaitlyn looked puzzled. “I just asked where you’d been all this time.”

“Oh, um...everything is fine. Mama and Papa wanted to compliment me on our class performance,” Tessa hastily pieced the fib together. Kaitlyn seemed satisfied, though.

“Right, that was a fun time. But it’s not _that_ dance I liked the most today,” she dropped to an excited, suggestive whisper, and Tessa silently thanked her. Now, all she had to do was nod and hum along while Kait praised Andrew Poje to the skies, and keep dwelling over her thoughts about Scott.

Several of the girls, she saw, were able to boast similar success on the romantic front. Madison was dancing with Zach Donohue, the son of Tessa’s father’s attorney, Maia with Scott’s friend Patrick, and even Gabriella finally managed to snag a partner in the person of Mathieu Caron, who owned the textile shop. Mathieu’s smile, Tessa saw, was more polite than interested, while Gabriella looked as if she was dancing with someone like the Prince of Wales. _Let her have her little triumphs,_ Tessa thought magnanimously. It made her feel better as a person to not meet Gabi’s animosity with a similar attitude.

“Tessie, where’s your suitor?” The playful voice made her jolt her focus off the dance floor. Jordan sank next to her with a smirk.

“Scott is not my suitor. I can ask you the same about yours,” Tessa returned, poking her. Jordan shrugged serenely.

“Michael had sent me a note with the _most_ profuse apologies that he couldn’t accept our invitation. Seriously, I worry about the boy. It’s almost not right to look at someone with such adoration, like he does at me.”

Her sister’s tone was concerned, in spite of its humor, Tessa noticed it right away. Jo had been skeptical about Michael’s feelings for her, but she seemed to have changed her outlook.

Now, she noticed, too, how serious and un-flippant Jordan’s face was. At that point, Kaitlyn flounced off at Andrew’s suggestion that they take a stroll through the park.

“I’ve made a decision, Tess.”

“What...what decision?” Tessa’s eyes widened and she stared, full of uncertain apprehension.

“So, if Michael wants to propose to me, whenever that comes, I will accept,” Jordan’s tone didn’t waver.

“Are you sure?” Tessa pressed her. Never before was Jordan so decisive, not in all the time after she had met Michael.

“Yes. I want to go away, start over, live in a place where I won’t be judged and condescended to, where people wouldn’t spread vile gossip about me. Where I would be free of Meryl and the whole lot, that’s making my life miserable.”

Jordan looked at her, grimly, all sunny mood vanished from her countenance. Tessa rolled her eyes. “Oh, Jo, not that sorry story again -”

“Ah. Telling half of Ilderton that mine and Fedor’s natural child is adopted by farmers is a sorry story, isn’t it?”

“What farmers, what child?” Tessa gasped, as her fists clenched in her lap. She turned further towards Jordan, hardly believing her. “What are you talking about?”

“Meryl thinks that the sleepover at the inn isn’t such an exciting tidbit anymore, so she added on to the rumor. Now I am a pathetic unwed mother, a loose woman who wants nothing more than to associate with engaged and married men. And, my poor baby was born in secret and was adopted by a family at one of our farms.”

Jordan’s voice was so weary and monotone, void of all anger now. She looked so much older than her eighteen years. As for Tessa, she was overcome with momentary, but fiery anger, helpless though it was. Her poor, innocent sister, whose only fault was being well-liked and beautiful!

“Doesn’t anyone who believes the gossip judge Fedor, too? Doesn’t it make Meryl pathetic, rather than you?”

“Tessa, Fedor’s a man. Even if he rolled himself in the mud with the pigs and strolled into the town square, there would be excuses to his behavior. I’m a woman. I’m the one under a microscope, in anything I breathe or think.”

Jordan huffed, and, full of agitation, snatched someone’s abandoned glass of scotch and downed its remains. Tessa was still trying to process all of it. Here she was mooning over Scott, while her sister was in such pain, all along…

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching to take Jordan’s hand. Jo heaved another sigh.

“Michael is a good boy, and he has all the makings of a good man. Him being Marquess has nothing to do with it, either. He’s so completely free of any preconceptions, and so understanding and kind to anyone he meets. He’d make me a good match, I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t be against me getting a career, either.”

“But you’ve spent precious little time together. That dance at your presentation and then their only visit here...What if you change your mind, and it would be too late? I don’t mean that _he_ will change for the worse, but rather, what if you decide he’s not the one for you, after all?” Tessa worried out loud, looking at Jordan’s inscrutable profile as she stared off into the distance.

“That’s unlikely. Look, I could very well have landed some rash and arrogant heir, or even some old geezer with nothing but a title. Michael’s very good indeed, compared to those prospects. I’ll be happy...eventually. I’m going to learn to love him,” Jordan insisted.

Tessa nodded slightly, still more sympathetic than anything. “I suppose that’s right. I just so wish you to be happy.”

“If nothing else, we’ll just live in peace and harmony together, working towards the same goal. He’d said he’d like to study law too, so that’s one hobby where we match, at present.”

_Peace and harmony?_ Jordan _was saying this in earnest?_

“Don’t you long for romance and love, though? You’re young, you can’t just spend the duration of your married life in...in friendship, or I know not what…” Tessa faltered. Her sister truly had a difficult choice. “He loves you, but can you love him?”

“I can’t see why not. Have you looked at those lovable curls of his?” Jordan winked, but something about it looked artificially breezy. “Now, I’d rather not spoil the rest of our day with these gloomy reflections. Want to go play ring toss? They’re giving out tickets to a Mary Pickford film!’

Thus, Michael, Scott, and any other man left the minds of both girls, chased away by the enticing promise to viewing privileges of cinematographic romance.

 

*

Around the middle of July, Jordan received the most surprising letter of all. She’d rushed into Tessa’s room, as soon as the little sister came back from her school.

“Tess! Tess! Look what Lady Edwina just sent me!” She rushed over to Tessa, waving the piece of paper. Laughing at her exuberance, Tessa leaned towards the letter.

_My dear Lady Jordan,_

_Kindly permit me to invite you and your sister to a weekend at our home in honor of my son’s twentieth birthday, to be held over the eighth to the tenth of August. It is Michael’s hearty desire to spend this day celebrating in your company. As for Lady Tessa, I leave her invitation to the consideration of your parents, though rest assured that we do sincerely welcome her here, should the circumstances allow it. Likewise, any traveling expenses shall be covered by us, with no doubts. Please respond, my dear, at your earliest convenience._

_My sincere salutes to your mother and father on behalf of my son and myself,_

_Edwina Carey, Dowager Marchioness of Dorset_

“She invited _us?”_ Tessa stared at the letter, then moved her eyes to Jordan, who was grinning with nearly insane happiness.

“Tess, this is a sign! Why else would they invite you and me, if not to expect something out of this?” Jordan gave a short but delighted laugh.

“But then, why did Michael’s mother send this invitation instead of him?”

“Oh, that’s probably all the decorum and airs and graces. They’re trying to make it look more decent, in order to not show Michael as some sort of dandy who just wants to lure me.”

“All right, but Mama and Papa, especially, will hardly agree for you to go there without them, not to mention to take me along,” Tessa doubted, hating to burst their bubble of excitement.

“That’s the best part!” Jordan’s gray-green eyes sparkled conspiratorially. “Mama told me she and Papa are planning to go to London that very weekend.”

“Are they really?”

“They are; it’s for some or another war-aid affair, they’re going as people who own hospitals in estates, and they’re going to be busy for a few days at the least. So, instead of sitting around at home, we get this opportunity!”

“How will they let us travel all alone?”

“We’ll suggest for them to give us a lift to Dorset, before they go to London. Or to travel with someone, from Ilderton.”

Everything fell so easily into a clear picture when Jordan explained it, that Tessa could see why she wanted to study the law. There was no one like her to make good arguments.

 

Jo’s informal practice as a solicitor ended with her and Tessa (and several several pieces of luggage) boarding the automobile that would take them to Dorset, late Friday morning. To the astonishment of both girls, their parents agreed to let them go on the trip almost with no objections. Tessa strongly suspected that they had a wish for the same outcome as Jordan had for the trip: that Michael would come around and finally propose.

As soon as Jim mentioned something along the lines of ‘It’s not very seemly for them to travel alone,’ Kate spoke up with an idea that surprised everyone, with no exaggeration.

“Why not send Scott along with the girls?”

“Why him?” Jim raised his eyebrows, as Jordan nudged Tessa and smiled as proudly, as if it was she who had given the suggestion. Tessa waved her off, blushing all the same.

“He’s a conscientious and responsible boy, yes, notwithstanding the incident at the fair,” Kate said, evenly. “If need be, he would protect Tessie and Jo. What’s more, it’s we who will be going to a turbulent city like London, not our girls. Dorset Castle, with all its entourage and security, is no more dangerous than our own parlor here.”

From the way he sighed, Jim visibly realized that it was better to agree, particularly faced with two  pairs of pleading eyes. Jordan delivered the final argument:

“Papa, it’s Michael’s birthday. Don’t you want me and him to get on well?” in the silkiest of voices.

Finally, the man huffed in resignation. “Oh, fine. But make sure you don’t leave the castle unattended!”

Tessa and Jordan beamed, both in relief and in the anticipation of adventure. If Jordan had already seen some of the world beyond Ilderton, Tessa was doubly eager to explore what was there outside of her home. Jordan could get married for all she cared, while she, Tessa, discovered the mysteries of Dorset like she ever did those of Ilderton, along with Scott.

Right. Scott.

Scott was coming with them.

She was going to be in the same place as Scott for a whole two days, and not a single Mama or Papa or even Mrs. Moir to monitor them. In Dorset Castle, undoubtedly full of various little secluded corners in which to talk...or otherwise.

How on Earth was she to deal with _that?_

Scott asked her the same question later, when she told him the news: “Why me?” He looked at her from behind the tray of dishes he was carrying into the kitchen.

“I suppose my parents trust you,” Tessa said. “And I do, more than anyone here.” Scott’s expression of uncertainty changed to that of bashful gratitude. “Are you keen to be our guard of honor, Scott Patrick?” she added, just to make sure, and tried to appear as beguiling as possible.

“I certainly am, Tessa Jane.”

She must have done it right, not just because of his agreement, but also his overjoyed smile.

 

Dorset turned out to be immense. Tessa would not have said that Ilderton was small in comparison, but the castle that was home to the Careys seemed to stretch on for hundreds of miles. The area was much more country-like than Ilderton’s urban vicinities. The green plains and small forest were as vast as the giant stone building that stood in the center of it all.

The most astonishing of all were the reactions of the Careys. Tessa knew they would be welcoming hosts, but even that was an understatement.

“My dears, you have arrived!” were Edwina’s first words, with the Virtues’ car hardly having rolled up to the castle’s main entrance. The woman was such a peculiar but somehow natural contrast: an impeccable dove-gray dress, not a single hair out of place in her intricate style, but at the same time, she was all eagerness and bustle with which one welcomes close relatives.

“How was the journey? Not very tiring? You must be hungry - dinner will be ready in a half hour. Elsie, do tell Mrs. Jones to be getting on with dinner. Fred, careful with the luggage, please, and take it up to the largest guest bedroom. Where’s that son of mine? Ah, there he is now!” she enthused, leading them into the entrance to the grand house. As Edwina rattled off her questions and observations, and the footmen hoisted away their luggage, Tessa spied Michael quickly descending down the grand staircase.

“My apologies for being late,” he said, pausing to level his breath. “I was just finishing up a telephone conversation, when I’d seen your automobile pull up.”

Tessa was fascinated, to hear of even such a small detail that spelled a whole new kind of luxury. She knew what telephones looked like, but Ilderton had not had one installed yet.

“Welcome to Dorset, ladies,” Michael said, kissing Jordan’s hand, and smiling at her and Tessa. She noticed that he was regretful to have to let her hand go, while Jordan lightly fluttered her eyelashes at him, making his flushed cheeks deepen in color.

“We’re ever so happy to have received your kind invitation, my lady Marchioness,” Jordan told her, smiling brilliantly. “And, Lord Michael, I am all eagerness to be a guest at your birthday reception.”

“As am I, milady, to receive you and your sister,” the boy replied, looking even more like an infatuated schoolboy than he did at his visit to Ilderton. “Oh, and good afternoon, Scott,” Michael addressed him, too, with a friendly manner, and not at all arrogant. “How was the journey?”

“It went well, thank you, sir.” Scott hesitated, and appeared modest, as if unsure whether he deserved to be singled out. “I apologize for the intrusion to your invitation, but my lord the Earl sent me along with Lady Jordan and Lady Tessa, for security purposes. I assure you I won’t be too tedious a visitor.”

“Nothing of the sort,” Edwina waved an airy hand. “The more the merrier! Our guests are so sparse in number, and they say being here intimidates them - can you imagine? All this distance between estates here is so bothersome. But I am very, very glad that all three of you had arrived to visit us.”

Michael piped up, “Yes, we certainly are. Now, Lady Jordan, allow me to accompany you. Lady Tessa, Mother, do follow us,” he nodded at the younger sister, and then offered the crook of his arm to Jordan, to lead her upstairs.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tessa spied Scott imitating Michael, to Edwina. “May, my lady Marchioness?” Edwina accepted, with a warm, encouraging smile.

“Thank you, dear Scott. What a well-mannered young man,” she praised, as they slowly mounted the staircase to the second floor. “Forgive my familiarity - I am like this with everyone, even my own son, though he’s Marquess.”

“Thank you for your kind words, madam,” Scott replied, giving Tessa a discreet wink as they passed.

Yes. This weekend will be heaps of fun, she decided - and Michael’s birthday was only one of the reasons.

 

After dinner and evening tea with Edwina, the girls went up to their adjacent bedrooms. As expected, the spacious bedchamber wing had two separate rooms for Tessa and Jordan each, with a large four-poster bed, Indian cotton sheets, and swandown pillows - each one had the Carey family crest embroidered in silk thread. Every room, too, had its own bell for the calling of the staff.

The girls had gone up, expecting to unpack their trunks, but, to the surprise of each, their pristinely straightened clothes were already hanging in the closets, and their nightgowns and robes set out in flawlessly folded piles on the beds. The bedrooms had the crisp scent of being freshly aired and dusted, in spite of the August heat.

“This is like being in a hotel, isn’t it?” Jordan entered the one that turned out to be hers. “Hey, if we happened to break something on accident, would they charge us for it?” She picked up a Venetian-glass candlestick, examining the way the sunset glinted on its jewel-like colors. That did make Tessa laugh.

“With this kind of service, I find it hard to believe that they’d begrudge us a trinket. However, if I had a penny every time you broke poor Michael’s heart with your flirting…”

Jordan interrupted her opening of the closet to frown at her. “Well, I never _gave_ him any reason to think I was flirting on purpose. He _chooses_ to be in love with me.” She started rummaging through a shelf.

Tessa perched herself on the edge of the bed. “It’s rather unfair to give him false hopes, Jo, and to expect him to propose.”

“I’m not giving him anything. We’d already discussed this, and please be sure that I’m not nearly as reckless as I seem with this affair. I want to get married, not enter a cloister, and Michael’s the perfect option for me, at this point onwards.” Jordan’s tone meant that she was absolutely through with talking on the subject, so Tessa decided to humor her.

“Do you have his present?”

“Right here,” Jordan pulled out a neatly wrapped rectangular object. “His favorite Guillaume Apollinaire, the book of calligram poems.”

“Ooh, he likes poetry? The perfect counterpart to you, who was so against learning verse by heart in school,” Tessa teased gently, earning an eye-roll.

“Well, opposites must attract, mustn’t they.” Jordan smoothed out an invisible wrinkle on the packaging.

“Did you write a romantic dedication too? You should have - something like _To my beloved Mickey, from your Jo-Jo.”_

Jordan only shook her head ruefully, but would not bother hiding a smile.

“I actually went even further. I wrote, _Propose already!”_

The sisters shared another laugh, though Jordan was obviously being facetious and not obsessive, to Tessa’s relief. Who knew, perhaps her marriage plans weren’t so illogical in the first place.

 

Michael had mentioned that his mother had two brothers, and his late father a sister, and between them all and their spouses and children, it was a promise of a good crowd.

In the lull between breakfast and the arrival of the family members, Jordan presented Michael with the book of poetry. His eyes lit up as soon as he carefully folded away the last of the wrapping paper.

“It’s so sweet of you to remember that I like Apollinaire,” he said, making Jordan blush when he moved his beaming face from the book cover to her own eyes.

“I try to remember everything about you, Michael,” she murmured in reply. Tessa, who was strolling to and fro in the parlor, understood that a gesture of some sort was about to happen. And, it did. She made sure to hide behind a marble column, wishing to give them some privacy without up and leaving outright.

“That’s not all of your presents, though. I would like to give you something else.”

“Something like what?” A playful inquiry from him, and Tessa fidgeted, telling herself not to pry, but ultimately unable to resist eavesdropping. At last, she took the slightest peek, just in time to see Jordan lean quickly and plant a kiss squarely on his lips. Even from the distance, Tessa noticed how Michael’s eyes widened a bit, and how his ears turned red, mimicking Jordan’s own. It was like her sister was both embarrassed and proud of her own forwardness.

“I’ve just received the most perfect present of all,” was the birthday boy’s quiet comment. He sounded awed, as if finding the eighth wonder of the world.

Tessa leaned away, stepping down the hallway to the main door with a grin. She felt truly glad that Michael and her sister were, by all appearance, falling in love. Mutually. _He is a good man, and he will be good for her. Everyone should be this lucky in marital affairs. Will I be?_

“T?  Earth to Tessa Virtue?”

A well-familiar voice directed her attention once she had stepped outside. Scott had been helping Fred and the other footmen with the tables and chairs outside across the lawn. As soon as she heard him, he set one of the chairs down to walk up to her.

“How’s the preparation going?” She shielded her eyes with her palm from the sun, but the brightness of Scott’s easy smile shone in an of itself.

“We’re about done, the girls are supposed to bring in the tablecloths and dishes and all now,” he said, fixing the slipcover on the last chair. By an invisible cue, several of the maids slowly walked out to them, carrying the wide unfolded tablecloth as if it were the train of a queen’s mantle.

“Ah, did you do everything, boys? That’s lovely. Thank you - especially you, Scott,” exclaimed the maid Tessa identified as Elsie. She noticed, with no small bit of discomfort, how the girl was all smiles as she addressed him.

“You should thank everyone, not just Scott. Fred worked hard too, for example,” Tessa commented, hoping that she didn’t sound like a snobby rich girl monitoring the servants. At the same time, she couldn’t explain why Elsie’s chattering and trying to engage Scott in small talk bothered her so much. The maid was as nice and harmless as, say, Tessa’s own Rachel. _With the difference that Rachel never tried to sweet talk Scott._

“Old Freddie? He’s only too glad to have someone do all the work for him!” Elsie giggled, to which Fred groaned.

“Stop making me feel like a dawdler in front of Lady Tessa, Elsie Bellsie. You know why she’s Bellsie?” Tessa shrugged, noticing that Scott lifted a humorous eyebrow, as he listened.

“Why?”

“‘Cause on her first workday, she was dusting the library and thought a fly on the table was a roach, grabbed the calling bell, and hit it so hard, she dented the table.” Now it was Elsie to roll her eyes, as Tessa and Scott laughed.

“Better than pulling my leg, check that back table over there, its leg’s about to give out on you and collapse, fine porcelain, and all.” Fred cast a panicked glance at the table, but it was perfectly sturdy.

_“That’s_ a bad joke, El!”

“A little less bad than your Bellsie,” Elsie said, nonchalantly, and waltzed back to the house. Fred spent a moment gazing at her softly, without a bit of humor.

“Too true, _my_ Bellsie,” he murmured, and Tessa understood his true feelings towards her: the mutual teasing was only a façade for more affectionate sentiment.

_How lucky they are. Not bound by rules and etiquette, and can banter and flirt out in the open._

“Hey, Tess?” Once again, Scott’s voice pulled her away from her thinking. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, just enjoying this, you know? It’s the first time I’ve had some freedom in traveling,” she pointed out. Scott nodded, with a slight smile of agreement.

“And Jordan? Is she liking the trip as well?” A raised eyebrow of mischief. Tessa grinned to that.

“I daresay that moment I witnessed after breakfast told me she’s loving it here.”

“What moment?” Scott’s curiosity heated up, just like she expected it to. She made a show of glancing as if to prevent them being listened on.

“I’ve seen them…” she paused and pinched the fingers of both her hands together, then touched them together and made a pout, miming a kiss. Scott’s eyebrows jumped in surprise.

“For real? Right inside the house! Jordan should have been more careful, though. What if she caused the poor lad to die of joy on his own birthday?” His face was full of mirth, but also a hint of... _jealousy_ , was it? Tessa couldn’t tell.

She chuckled instead, shaking her head. “There’s romance all around us today. There isn’t the slightest hint of death.”

Scott sighed, agreeing, and then she set to move away to go find Jordan (who hopefully was done kissing Michael by now), when something prevented her from walking on. She looked down and saw that Scott was holding her hand.

“Hey, Scott?”

“Hmm?”

“Uh...I’m sorry, but I need to go see where Jo is.” She tugged on his hand to give him a hint. Finally, he glanced down and noticed what he was doing.

“Oh. Sorry. On you go.” He released her palm, and, strangely, she felt disappointment at the loss of touch with his warm fingers. “I should go, too - the guests must be here any minute.” He gave her another smile and patted her shoulder. “Bye, Tutu.”

Tessa looked at him, suddenly full of a desperate wish for them to be like Elsie and Fred. Or Jordan and Michael. How she wanted to express that Scott was becoming more than a friend to her. So much more valuable and meaningful. And she did not know how to say it. She had no idea how long she would make herself wait before she gave up and revealed it.

“Bye,” she whispered at his retreating figure.

 

In total, five carriages arrived to the castle grounds for dinner, one by one. Michael was on the end of the receiving line of his relatives, accepting their birthday greetings and introducing them to Jordan and Tessa in turn.

“Thank you, dear Aunt,” he said, as another tall and well-dressed lady approached to tell him happy birthday. “Lady Jordan and Lady Tessa Virtue. My aunt Margaret, Viscountess Lascelles.”

Tessa and Jordan murmured their hellos.

“How are your parents? How is it over at Ilderton?” Margaret addressed Jordan, with a smile.

“All is well, thank you,” Jordan replied, politely, and Tessa remarked that Michael’s aunt was under a good impression from her.

“Mickey!” came a shrill, twin shriek of excited welcome, and Tessa’s attention switched from the line of guests to two small girls of around ten, who bounded out of the carriage. Michael noticed them and smirked.

“Ah, of course, no party starts until these two firecrackers arrive. Hi there, girls!”

The two girls were so alike that they matched down to the last button on their yellow percale dresses. Both had light brown hair in two braids and pale blue eyes. They ran right into Michael and engulfed him in a very enthusiastic and boisterous hug.

“Happy birthday, Mickey Mick!”

“Now, now, ladies, Michael’s happy to see you too, but remember your manners,” Margaret chided their daughters, though it was through a benevolent smile. “Say hello to the Ladies Virtue, Jordan and Tessa.”

The two sisters let go of the laughing Michael and graced the Virtues with stately curtsies.

“Lavinia,” said the girl on the left.

“Alexandra,” her twin introduced herself.

Michael grinned at their exaggeratedly solemn expressions. “Or, better to say, Lavvie and Alix, the great party-goers and commotion-makers and busybodies.”

“Are you Cousin Mickey’s bride?” Lavvie asked Jordan promptly, and Alix _oohed_ , perking up. Jordan blushed, but Michael hurried to rescue her from an awkward situation; after all, Tessa knew he most likely had not made any proposals yet.

“Lavvie, Alix, do you two want to go help Simpson churn the ice machine?”

That did the trick. The girls skipped off to the butler further away, with the promise of first rights to taste fresh ice cream.

“I’m sorry,” Michael turned to Jordan, shrugging sheepishly. “They’re just curious little cats - they want to know all about everyone they meet, as soon as it happens.” There was clear apology in his tone. Perhaps, he regretted not mustering up the bravery to propose yet, and thought it offended his prospective fiancee.

Jordan shook her head, smiling with a soft kindness that even Tessa rarely saw on her face. “That’s quite alright, Michael. Which one of us wasn’t a curious, innocent child, before we had to become boring and dutiful adults?”

 

Dutiful adulthood at the Careys turned out to be not boring at all, as the dinner progressed and tapered off to an end, before dessert. The guests lounged around on the chairs and benches. Someone had brought a tennis racquet and a game promptly took place.

Michael himself insisted on inviting Scott to join him, Fred, and one of his other cousins, Edgar. The four paired off, with Scott being Michael’s partner in the game. Jordan had occupied the place next to Edwina, her brothers, and Margaret Lascelles. As for Tessa, she was once again in the spotlight for both Lavvie and Alix, who wanted to know everything about Ilderton. The main subjects were Jordan and herself, whom the younger girls found fascinating.

“What was your sister’s coming out like?” Alix asked, so rapt with attention that she paused her ice cream spoon with its melting contents halfway to her mouth.

“I don’t know the details, to be honest, because I could not attend,” Tessa admitted. “Though, from what Jordan told me, it was very fancy and grand. She met the King and Queen, and the Prince of Wales.”

The twins sighed with admiration, starry-eyed at the idea. Tessa almost laughed at thow charmingly impressionable they were. Soon enough, she’d have to go through the same as Jo, meet the royal family, and fly off into the world of the adults, putting carefree days behind her.

She’d leave Scott behind, eventually. That made her shudder a bit with explicit fear. She’d rather...she didn’t know exactly what, but the thought of her friendship with Scott ending made her terrified, even now, in contrast to the general celebration around.

Meanwhile, Lavvie was asking her something else, insistently. She tugged on Tessa’s sleeve, scooting closer. “Why does the Prince of Wales kill ladies?”

“I’m sorry?” The image of herself and Scott standing on the opposite sides of some cliff vanished and Tessa directed her focus back to Lavvie’s eager face.

“I’m asking, why does everyone say that the Prince of Wales kills ladies? Isn’t anyone supposed to go to jail if he kills another person? That’s a bad thing to say about the Prince!”

_Oh._ Lavvie mixed up the expression _ladykiller,_ what she must have heard an adult call the Prince. Tessa had heard whispers of his reputation with women and his numerous mistresses.

“You must have misheard it,” Alix mused, just as Tessa searched for some appropriate watered-down explanation of the term Lavvie wanted to decipher.

“No, I _definitely_ heard that Mama and Auntie Edwina said that he killed ladies!”

“Alexandra, Lavinia! Enough with this nonsensical talk!” Margaret’s sharp voice cut in. She glared at her daughters. “Well-mannered girls shouldn’t discuss that in public, as I’d told you many times.”

The twins sighed and chorused, “Yes, Mama,” in a monotone that revealed it wasn’t the first time they were so reprimanded. “Every time we talk about something fun, we’re told it’s not for well-mannered girls,” grumbled Alix, returning to her ice cream, and Lavvie imitated her.

Their restless childish energy couldn’t be contained for long, so they moved on to cheer the tennis players. Michael bested Scott in the end, though it was a close one; Tessa, after all, knew from experience how good at tennis her friend was. As the two came over to Fred and Edgar to shake hands and clap each other’s backs - in the chummy boy way - Tessa glimpsed Jordan giving Michael the thumbs-up, and him accepting it with a grin of proud happiness.

With the slow onset of twilight, the guests began to gather up and prepare for departure.

“Good-bye, dear Tessa,” said Lavvie, and she and Lavvie came up to her and squeezed her as tightly as if she was family. “And good-bye, dear Jordan,” Alix added, to which she gracefully accepted the hug.

Tessa chuckled at the twins’ cheerful promise that “We’ll write letters!”

“I’ll be eager to receive them,” she said graciously, as the younger girls beamed and bounced into their carriage, waving.

Soon enough, the last table had been cleared, the last carriage rolled away, and the Careys and their help retreated in various directions. Jordan left almost hand in hand with Michael, leisurely walking further down the path that led to the Dorset park and pond. Smirking to herself, Tessa suddenly realized that it must have been the beginning of the birthday boy’s uncomplicated proposal scenario. A rush of content for her sister filled her and she spared a quick thought of goodwill for them, if Michael was indeed one step away from asking the monumental question.

She sat on the sun-warmed stone bench, watching the sun start to descend in the sky. For a moment, even though nothing had as yet been set in stone, she imagined Jordan as the mistress of all this expansive property - the castle, the grounds, the woods, the ponds. And yet, how could Jo just...accept all this unquestionably? She deserved to truly love her husband, whoever he would be. Could she love the gentle, mild-mannered Michael?

Deep in those thoughts, Tessa only just managed to notice Scott sitting down right beside her. As sometimes happened nowadays, she could not suppress a shiver at his proximity. In spite of the overall mild warmth of the late summer and the bench beneath her, she still felt the heat his own body emanated. At last, she dared to turn her head and look at him, to which he promptly smiled.

“I’d finished all my work and their housekeeper told me I could be free. It’s sort of strange that there was so little to do - I mean, relatively - in such a big household.”

“Probably because Lady Edwina’s a widow, and Michael already has someone waiting on him,” Tessa suggested, and then glanced at Scott, with humor. “As well as someone to entertain.”

A smirk reached Scott’s own eyes. “So when is the prince planning to offer his princess his hand, heart, and all of his castle on top of it?” His teasing tone was infectious, and Tessa nodded in the direction of the park.

“Right this moment, if their foray into the park counts for something.”

He made a good-natured, knowing grimace. Another brief spell of silence came over them, yet she wouldn’t get rid of the feeling that she should say or do something. To her left, Scott, too, was fidgeting with his hands - the clear sign that he was conflicted about an invisible dilemma. He kept darting his eyes over to her time and again.

Then, blurted out, “Do you want to go - ” right as Tessa said, “- to the park, too?”

They joined each other in nervous and amused laughter at the coincidence of their invitation. “To do what, spy on them? Why, Mr. Moir!” Tessa tilted her head, mockingly waving a finger at Scott, who sighed in pretend disappointment.

“I knew you’d judge me for the very idea!” More giggling. When they composed themselves, Tessa looked at him, now earnestly.

“But I’m serious. Let’s go, at least get some fresh air. Ilderton’s park is some sort of backyard flower plot compared to this,” she pointed towards the lush green trees.

“Let’s go, then,” he said, with his characteristic cheerfulness, which, in fact, did not reach his gaze. Once again, she acutely sensed how serious and almost nervous he became. “I mean, you wouldn’t presume that I have to be the Michael to your Jordan, if you want to follow their path?”

Tessa could not restrain a soft gasp. There was so much mystery...longing... _something_ in his expression, added to the humor, that she had no reply at the ready for a moment. She covered her turmoil with a nervous laugh.

“That won’t be necessary, I promise you.” Scott, whose face mirrored the slightly awkward tension from his own joke, visibly relaxed.

“Then, follow me.”

_I’d follow you to far more intimidating places, unquestionably,_ was a fleeting thought in Tessa’s head as she took his hand to walk beside him.

 

They strolled slowly among the soft rustle of tree branches and bird songs. “The sparrows remind me of that bird whistle I’d brought you when you hurt your leg that one winter.”

Tessa smiled, in spite of the circumstances of that gift. “When we tried to play hockey all together.” She noticed how Scott made a fleeting grimace at his own picturing of it.

“You hurt yourself due to mine and Dan’s and Chuck’s buffoonery. I was so scared that you’d be angry at me and not…” He stopped walking, as if hitting an unseen obstacle. She paused along. “And that you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“Oh, Scott…”

Tessa’s heart gave a twinge of sympathy; she never suspected that this situation, unpleasant as it may have been to her childish self, gave him such deep concern that he was still sorry for it years later. She touched her hand to his again, and then let her palm nestle inside his when he un-curled his fingers.

“I’d never, ever not want to be your friend. Not the least when accidents happen. A little bird told me that the one who gave it to me knows it himself,” she said, decisively trying to steer the conversation back into more casual territory. She so didn’t want Scott to remember anything bad, least of all when their tranquil summer promenade called for only positive emotions. Sure enough, Scott smiled, looking more relaxed now.

“A little bird, eh?”

Tessa nodded. “I still have that whistle,” she admitted. “It reminds me of you.” _And makes me wish for you when you aren’t nearby_.

They walked on, hand in hand, up to where a great big oak tree was spreading its branches far and wide. Scott put his hands on his hips, frowning with exaggerated confusion.

“I don’t think we can find them now.” Tessa was just about to say that they weren’t looking for her sister and her host in the first place, when he shouted: “Hey there! Jordan! Michael! You folks engaged yet? Need an usher or something for the wedding? Maybe a preacher?” The loud sound of his voice sent the crowds of birds in the tree branches chirping agitatedly.

“Sc-Scott!” Tessa grabbed at his arm, stuttering because of her laughter. “Hush!” Yet, she found him too funny to care that he was joking around. He was grinning in return, with that infectious, boyish exuberance.

“What? I was trying to hurry the man along with his proposals and all. I don’t want them to get eaten by hungry wildlife here in this forest, before he says as much as ‘Will you be...”

Tessa shook her head, giggling at his goofiness. _This is so much better and more fun than tea with Edwina, or even Michael’s party. Just us, together. Me and my -_

“Hey, Tutu? There’s a problem, though.” Scott sobered up suspiciously quickly, and looked at her with a slight frown. She felt her smile wilt.

“Please don’t tell me…” Her mouth dried and she glanced around. “Don’t tell me that we got lost and we’ll never get out of here, and we’ll have to stay here forever like Sleeping Beauty in her forest, as the whole of Dorset and Ilderton searches for us…”

“Actually, it’s sort of even worse than that.” His face was unreadable, and Tessa shivered.

“Scott - ”

He sighed deeply. “Tessa, I’m sorry to say this, but...you’ve walked into a patch of blackberries. And now your slippers are ruined.”

Tessa moved her eyes down to her feet, only to see that it was the truth, and her beige silk summer slippers were now stained a dark purple. She was standing smack-dab in the middle of the wild berry growth. She looked back at Scott, who was just hardly keeping himself from laughing out loud, again, and it prompted her to do the same, until she was left struggling to breathe.

“That’s it? I loathe you! I thought you’d smelled a bear or something!” She swatted at him again, though not hard enough to hurt, making him snort with merriment.

“To be fair, I’d trampled upon them a little too,” he pointed out, gesturing to his shoes, but the stain wasn’t as prominent on the dark brown leather. Tessa shrugged.

“That’s fine, I brought an extra pair. I’d have to lie in the middle of this berry patch now, so my dress matches the shoes, perhaps,” she quipped, gingerly walking off the crushed blackberries. Doing so, she noticed the abrupt ache in her legs, and realized that picking her way into the woods over the rough, twiggy ground tired them quite a bit.

“Would you mind if I sat on the branch for a moment? Just tired, but I still want to stay here a while longer. It’s so calm, and very good for the heat outside,” she asked, enjoying the way that the green trees protected her from the still-hot sunlight, like a thick canopy. Scott nodded, and, before she could ask, he was fitting his arms around her waist and hoisting her up to a seat on the heavy tree branch, almost like she was weightless. Tessa gasped softly at the sudden feel of his warm body so near her, but he noticed nothing. So it seemed. She patted the space near her on the branch, torn between inviting him and being shy to sit in such proximity to him at once. Generosity won.

“You want to sit here?” Scott smiled and shook his head.

“I’m fine, T. Thanks, though.” He crouched down to pick off a few blackberries from the side of the patch that they didn’t muddle with their steps. “Love ‘em,” he mumbled through the mouthful. “Ma makes the best blackberry pies back at home.” The little playful flame returned to his gaze, as he chewed the berries. “Close your eyes,” he then instructed, to her surprise.

“What for?” She smiled at him, but warily. As children, she sometimes was the ‘victim’ to his pranks such as putting various critters of nature onto her as soon as she closed her eyes, even if they usually were ladybugs. But he wouldn’t do that again as a sixteen year-old, would he?

“Trust me. No bugs or frogs here,” he appeared to read her concerns, showing her his empty palms. “Just close your eyes and open your mouth.”

_Her mouth? He wasn’t some immature barbarian, to put a bug into her mouth, was he?_ Tessa dismissed the thought as ridiculous. She shivered slightly, as she guessed what he was hinting at doing, but obliged his request all the same. A second after, she felt the cool exterior of a berry touch her lips, as well as gentle and warm fingertips guiding it. She crushed the berry against her palate, sighing not so much at the ripe sweetness of it, but at precisely that touch of Scott’s hand to her face. A tingling rush shook her body, like he did indeed put some kind of wiggling woodland creature on her skin. Yet, no silly prank of his could have affected her this way, or made her heart pound and her head so dizzy that she had to reflexively grip onto the tree trunk.

When she opened her eyes, it was to see Scott’s face and its entirely new expression. The hazel depth of his eyes seemed to radiate gentleness and incredible, unforeseen adoration. He was so close to her, too. Right there. He, with his warm eyes, and messy hair (soft to look at, softer to touch), and his lips, dark crimson with berry juice and so stunningly tempting.

“Good?”

“Good,” she murmured, unable to look away from his eyes. As she licked her lips subconsciously, she saw his pupils widen - and then, his lips imitated hers.

Tessa couldn’t resist anymore. She had to give in to the wish that grew stronger ever since the Ilderton fair.

“Maybe it’s unladylike, but I cannot handle another second. Kiss me, right now,” she demanded, breathlessly but firmly. Her heart was in her throat. _Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me._

Scott’s face changed with lightning-speed: his mouth formed a shocked O for an instant. He blinked, the soft admiration gone in favor of astonishment.

“Now?” his voice lowered to a whisper. There was no protest in it, however, Tessa was relieved to hear. _Oh Scott, please kiss me._

“Yes,” she whispered back. His face was closer yet; she felt her heart quicken so much that it thrummed like a hummingbird inside her chest. Finally, his fingers touched her cheek, and she felt his warm, damp breath waft over her skin and -

The very first touch of their lips made her tremble even more profoundly than before, as she leaned back to him. There was no nervousness, no trepidation with how to go about it. Her instinct, one she didn’t suspect of having, whispered how to do it, as she tried to mimic what Scott was doing. The kiss tasted like summer and blackberries and _him._ Every thought fled her mind, but the one that rejoiced at how simple and _perfect_ it was until -

She felt how his lips opened a fraction, and then the tip of his tongue, warmer and wetter than his lips themselves, brushed against hers. Now, that made her whine softly, so delicious it was. She had to grasp his shoulders, because the thrill made her feel like she was about to float off the tree branch, so she tried to ground herself back to this moment, this jubilant moment. Her right hand slipped up his back, along his neck, and stopped, touching the short hair at his nape. He let out a groan of encouragement, but continued to kiss her, so slowly, just with his lips. Pulled back, breath by breath.

Tessa’s cheeks warmed with seeing the renewed affection in Scott’s gaze, as he grazed her cheek with his palm one last time. But she wasn’t _too_ bold in her initiative, was she?

“Scott, I just want you to know that I…” She took a bracing breath, as his hands squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. Her anxiety must have been apparent. “That I feel...more for you. More than friendship.”

There it was. There, too, was a blaze of the last ray of sunlight dipping into twilight, making Scott’s eyes ignite with emotion. He leaned to touch his forehead against hers.

“I feel more than friendship for you too, T,” he said, so sweetly.

In that moment, Tessa renounced all her previous notions of what first kisses were supposed to be. Standing surrounded by the tranquility of the trees, her footwear stained by blackberries, and the taste of them and Scott’s kiss lingering on her lips were so much better than she could have imagined. Fireworks were optional, indeed, when the one kissing her ignited such true sparkles of joy in her heart.


	14. Valedictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding, a victory, a discovery, and a loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! As always, thank you to anyone who is still interested in this fic, it means the world to me. I promise to keep working to lessen that interval between updates.
> 
> Warning, very small, for a minor character death at the end (the aforementioned angst I hinted at in the previous chapters). This one is mostly fluff, but, like I said, that plot won't move itself along, unless I inject some angst into it lol. 
> 
> Hugs to everyone and anyone!! See you again hopefully soon!

They walked out of the park saying very few words. As they emerged out of the green depth, Scott surprised Tessa, this time, by leaning and gently kissing the corner of her lips. The soft touch made her smile, as much as she felt a vague yearning for a kiss as firm as they have had back there. Their first real kiss, and - please God! - not their last, she thought, gazing at Scott dreamily. He laughed, shortly and with a touch of nervousness, when he pulled away from this other quick peck.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to...to do what we did. I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t...you know, _suggest_ it first,” he said, lightly running his palms up and down Tessa’s arms. She blushed faintly, glancing to the ground.

“I thought _you_ would think I was too brave,” she murmured. “You know, everyone says I have to be a lady, and ladies shouldn’t...anyway, like I’ve said, I don’t care. I did it because I wanted to. And I hoped you wanted the same,” she changed tones, growing more confident, as Scott smiled.

“That’s good, because I wanted to, myself,” he confessed, in a comically loud stage whisper, and then leaned swiftly and stole yet another kiss. She flinched a bit at the spontaneous gesture, but burst out giggling when Scott grinned. They resumed their leisurely path.

“And now we have to go back and then tomorrow, leave to Ilderton, where I’m not sure if we’ll get to do it again.” He appeared regretful, and it passed over to her, as well. For sure, it would be more difficult to steal moments to themselves back under the ever-present attention of their parents and siblings.

And yet, Tessa found courage to reassure him that they will manage this shift in their relationship. Somehow.

“I promise, this won’t change us. We’re still Tessa and Scott. Just us. Right?”

Scott brightened up again, gazing at her with the same easy affection. “Just us. Do never change, Tutu. I hope you stay the same.” A squeeze of her hand, and she was alerted to the fact that they were about to enter the castle again - and she had hardly noticed them walking, all this while.

“You have to promise me the same thing, in that case.” Her grin turned mischievous, but she felt a speeding up of her heartbeat, when he raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed it as gently as he had her own lips.

_His touch was so very affectionate. How much they’d changed already, for all they have just made the promise not to._

A customary wink from him, a cheerful ‘Goodnight,’ and they parted.

Tessa knew she didn’t want to change. No matter what would happen to them after this, she hoped to have him near her, as before. Scott. Her... _who?_

Friend. For now. And yet, more than friend. The boy about whom she cared for more than she expected herself to care about the one who’d always been only her platonic companion.

All the same, she seemed to float instead of step on the ground. To begin with, she was so relieved that Scott’s feelings matched hers. Ever since Tessa understood that she liked him, a vague hint of anxiety that he’d misunderstand her, or even worse, that he’d laugh at her, bothered her now and again, up until this evening. But now? She wanted to rush back to the castle and tell everyone, _everyone_ , that Scott felt the same. He liked her, and he wanted to kiss her more, and so did she. God, did she ever want to kiss him again, to the point where she briefly considered sneaking into the staff wing of the castle, looking for Scott’s designated bedroom, knocking on the door, and, once he opened it -

Her cheeks burned, with the combined excitement and a faint sense of embarrassment. As a proper young lady, she couldn’t really act on such thoughts, could she? No matter what, she could no more help having them than she could help having green eyes, it seemed. She wanted to have more of that bubbly, giddy sensation in her chest, when Scott’s lips touched hers and when his arms went around her. How would they manage to do it again in the future, when their behavior was implicitly watched like it has never been watched before?

Her mind buzzing with these conflicting emotions, she slowly ascended the staircase, when a portrait on the wall that she didn’t notice before caught her eye. A young, very handsome man of around twenty looked out of the canvas. He strikingly resembled Michael in his features and posture, except his hair was not pale ashen blond, but the color of tarnished gold, and less curly; and his eyes a dark, rich brown, instead of Michael’s light gray.

_That must be the older brother, the one who went to war,_ Tessa guessed, examining the man’s hint of a smile. She found herself wondering, again, what had happened to him. The Careys were so reticent about him - and the father of the family, she remembered. She didn’t even know what this older son’s name was, for that matter. As much as she liked Michael and his mother (she had no reason to assume bad things about either one), she couldn’t help but wonder once more what secrets and sorrows the Careys kept. Would it affect Jordan badly, if she were to marry into the family?

“You’ve found my brother, eh?” a voice came behind her, and she startled slightly. Sure enough, there was Michael, walking slowly over, his own eyes on the portrait.

“What was his name?” Tessa had to ask, but saw how Michael tensed up. Not understanding what she’d misspoken, she opened her mouth -

“Not was. Is. His name is Jasper,” he said, firmly. She was astonished at the vehemence with which he’d answered her. “I refuse to think he’d died. I know he’s still alive, though he went...went there. He’s alive, Tessa.” The words poured out of Michael’s mouth, all a desperate prayer for them to be true.

A wave of sympathy swept over her, for the boy who so obviously was attached to his sibling. She herself couldn’t imagine the misery her life would become were Jordan to disappear. Right now, she could humor Michael, if he chose to believe that his brother was alive. Jasper. Even the name was lovely. An unbidden thought occurred to her: would Jo prefer him over Michael, under different circumstances? While not being the one to favor people based on looks, she would definitely notice someone as attractive as this enigmatic older brother.

“I’m sure you miss him,” she told Michael, gently, wishing to give him at least some comfort and relieve his somber expression. A ghost of a smile graced his mouth.

“I do. He is so much more different than me. He’s fearless, and so confident always, and I’m just...the younger son. Though, Mother never played favorites. She loved us both equally, as a mother should.”

A momentary pause, as the most pressing question hung between the two.

“And...your father?”

At that, Michael’s eyes flashed with unconcealed anger and disgust. “I might as well have not had one. Better to be a half-orphan than to have had such a father.”

The words were pure venom. Tessa was shocked to hear how harsh of a tone he used to speak of one of his parents. “Listen...” She licked her dry lips, unsure of what to say to all of it. “I truly don’t want to appear judgmental, but why are you talking about your father like he was your worst enemy? What did he do that was so horrible?”

“It makes me ashamed to even think of what he did, never mind share it. We’d found out of the evil that he had committed only after he died.  I’m sorry, Tessa, but I can’t disclose what he’d done in detail, because I don’t want to make you - and much less, Jordan - think that my mother and I approved of it. We would have run far away had we known about it much earlier.”

Michael appeared seriously distressed. He paced around on the landing agitatedly, all under Tessa’s stunned gaze, and Jasper’s serenely vacant one from the portrait. She could only watch him shuffle to and fro, but reached out a hand, as if trying to calm him.

“Please, don’t worry. Neither one of us means to judge you or to act like we want to snoop around in whatever you wish to keep in privacy,” she reassured him. “I hope the painful past is all behind you now. You’re good people, you and your mother. I’m nothing less than relieved that Jordan -”

Abruptly, she perceived it might be impolite to insinuate that all Jordan cared about was the proposal. Michael let out another pensive sigh.

“As to Jordan…”

Tessa waited. He looked both relieved that she changed the subject from his father, and helpless, in some strange way.

“I asked her to marry me earlier this evening,” he confessed, eyeing her nervously. He looked for all the world as if he expected Tessa to berate him for it. Instead, she gasped.

“That’s wonderful! I’m so very happy,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together like a child eagerly helping herself to sweets. _It happened. She was so happy for her sister. But Jordan - did she want this? She was happy too, wasn’t she?_

“Michael,” Tessa ventured, more quietly, “she didn’t refuse, did she?”

“No! She said...she told me that she would be honored to be my wife.”

The words didn’t register as those an ecstatic fiancée would say. Even Michael, in spite of his soft, enamored expression speaking of Jo, repeated her answer in a wistful tone. Tessa did not know what she should say to that, whether to congratulate him further or give him sympathy.

“But I said to her immediately that she should not feel pressure to accept my proposal. Now...or at all. That I’d gladly stay friends with her for her own sake.”

As sadly as he spoke, Tessa knew the real emotion behind it. He loved her sister, and was willing to swallow his pride, to overstep his feelings in favor of hers.

“It’s not that she doesn’t like you, it’s just that -”

“Don’t continue. I know I hardly inspire adoration in her, as much as she respects me and enjoys being with me. Still, if she chooses to accept me and what I offer, then that’s...that’s enough for me. There’s enough love in my heart for two. For that matter, if down the road she meets someone she deems worthier of her love than me, I will do my best to let her go and pursue whomever she wishes.”

Tessa saw a wholly different Michael Carey before her. Formerly a slightly idealistic adolescent, he transformed into a serious man, full of maturity and selfless concern. She could only nod along, at a loss for words.

“But, damn it. I love her. I _do.”_ With lightning speed, he reverted to the passionately awed youngster. “I love that she’s so outspoken and confident, and that she’s not afraid to be different than the other socialites who fill their pastime with nothing but shopping and partying. I love that she’s intelligent and witty, and that she wants to be a solicitor - and I’m not only saying that because I want to be one, too. I love that she doesn’t see me as a silly mama’s boy, by marrying whom she would snatch up his title and possessions. I just love _her._ Everything that I know of her, and what I don’t know yet. I’ve fallen in love, from the first time I’ve met her. And I want to spend as much time with her as I am destined to be.”

“I know, Michael. I promise you, you two have my full support.”

“Thank you. You don’t know how much those words mean to me. You know - Jordan asked me whether I would allow her to work after we marry. I know I’ll never be in the position to dictate or otherwise govern her. Whatever she chooses to do, she will have my fullest and most enthusiastic support.” A light frown marred his forehead again; clearly, he wasn’t a fan of the old-fashioned ‘head of the household’ family structure. A renewed sense of respect towards this boy filled Tessa. Yes, he would be very good as a husband.

“I’m thrilled to hear all this. As Jordan’s sister, I wish for nothing more from her future spouse.”

Tessa hesitated, but decided to tell him another thing. “Also, you should know - I’m not trying to go behind my own sister’s back, but she has been...there have been nasty rumors and gossip about her in Ilderton. I don’t know if I should delve into it deeply, but -”

“I know everything.” Michael was firm and unwavering in his soft interruption. “Jordan told me the whole story very honestly. I know about the rumors of her with that Russian, and I know that she’s completely innocent of the accusations. As a matter of fact, I admire her strength even more, now that she had told me. And I would continue that way, had she told me she had really been with him, and a dozen other men in addition. What I care about is that she wants to be with me, all others be damned. Sorry,” he finished, grimacing a bit.

A boulder of anxiety lifted off Tessa’s chest. “I am so glad she met someone like you. I’d be honored, too, to have you as a brother.”

Michael smiled, at last, sincerely and genuinely. “I’m glad to have my future sister’s acceptance.” They laughed, full of ease with each other’s understanding, as if they already became a family.

“I must go to Jordan now. Shall I give her your love?” she couldn’t resist teasing.

He raised a playful eyebrow. “Please do.”

Tessa found Jordan sitting with her knees drawn to her chest, and her left hand resting on her lap. Coming closer, she saw that one of her fingers was sporting an antique-looking, ornate ruby ring.

“How’s it going, Jo?”

Jordan glanced up briefly, and gave her a small smile. “Not too bad, little sister.” She turned her gaze back to the ring, moving her hand this way and that to watch the ruby wink in the fireplace light. While not glowing with joy, she did not seem to be upset or dissatisfied, either. Truth be told, Tessa was not sure whether this calm acceptance of the proposal was a better or worse sign than any other strong emotion. Hesitating for a moment, she stepped towards Jordan’s bed and took a seat on the edge.

“That’s beautiful,” she nodded at the ring. Jordan hummed.

“His great-grandmother’s. The family heirloom, as it were.”

A short silence fell upon the two, punctuated only by the quiet popping of the fire and the faint sound of the crickets from the opened window.

“So...why aren’t you asking me whether I thought well before accepting Michael’s proposal?” A hint of sarcasm, though gentle, painted Jordan’s question.

“I spoke to him just now, and what he told me made me understand that you did think well,” Tessa replied. She placed a cautious hand on her sister’s shoulder, grateful that her gesture wasn’t shrugged off. To answer the silent confirmation, she added, “We’d run into each other on the staircase not five minutes ago.”

Jordan perked up, despite her nonchalant manner. “Really?”

“I stopped to look at this portrait of his older brother on the landing, and he came up. We had a nice little chat.”

“About me, I presume.”

“Nothing that was said was negative. We’d reached the agreement that you two are a good match. He gave you his love, even.”

Jo’s eyebrow twitched. “Ah, love? You should have discussed how much dowry he would receive along with me. Down to the exact number of chickens on the farms. Michael loves precision.”

_“Jordan.”_

Tessa eyed her sister in dismay, but did let out a short laugh when she realized that she had been joking.

“So...have you thought well enough about this?” she inquired, only to retaliate for the humor. Jordan’s eyes widened, and she threw her head back, shaking with laughter, straightening up again to dig her fingers into her little sister’s ribs.

“I’ll get you for this, little minx! I will!”

When she was well pleased to have tormented the breathless, wiggling Tessa, the two calmed down again. Tessa leaned her head on Jordan’s shoulder, sighing, but kept her arms around herself, just in case.

“Don’t you worry about me, Tessie. I’m going to marry and live a long and happy life. Believe me.”

 

_THE ILDERTON WEEKLY_

_OCTOBER 20th, 1918_

_Say Yes to the Marquess: Ilderton Rose Weds Dorset Heir_

_The highlight of this week’s events in the ‘shire was undoubtedly the wedding of Lady Jordan Virtue, daughter of James, the Earl of Ilderton, and Katherine (born McCormick), to Lord Michael Carey, son of the late Marquess of Dorset and Edwina, (born the Viscountess Kensington). The families opted for a relatively modest reception after the matrimonial ceremony in St. George’s Church. Stil, the bride, who’d made a stir as one of the most promising debutantes of her season, looked nothing less than splendid in her gown, a custom silk-and-lace creation from under the needle of the Duff-Gordon boutique._

_When asked about their future plans, the Ilderton Rose, as she is informally named, expressed the wish to commence law studies, jointly with her new husband. Such an endeavor, though less typical of a lady, is nevertheless admirable. As for the groom, his eyes were on his bride throughout, with no exceptions, with an air of such complete happiness, that all the guests could witness he had chosen this young woman out of love, rather than the more superficial reasons. Let it be assured that his new wife reciprocated the same tender sentiment in her behavior all through the celebration._

_Without a doubt, another love boat has entered the vast ocean of matrimony._

_Shown below are the Marquess and newly created Marchioness of Dorset with their wedding party, of whom this photograph was taken shortly before the beginning of the reception._

_Center: the newlyweds._

_Left: the bridesmaids - Miss Gabrielle Daleman, Miss Jessica Mulroney, and Miss Ashley Wagner, friends of the bride._

_Right: the ushers - the Hon. Edgar Kensington, the groom’s first cousin; Sir George Renwick, Sir John Ashford, both friends of the groom._

_Seated to either side of the married couple: the maid of honor, none other than Lady Tessa Virtue, the bride’s younger sister. Accompanying her was Mr. Scott Moir, the cleverly-substituted groomsman of honor, in lieu of Sir Thomas Gillingham, who had sustained an unfortunate injury days before the ceremony. Mr. Moir is a staff member of Ilderton Hall, but this was ‘in no way a factor’ in the decision to include him in the wedding, from the words of the groom himself._

All it took for Jordan to get married was to declare that Michael had proposed. She made the announcement the morning after they all returned to Ilderton, and, by Tessa’s estimation, their parents were surprised less by the fact of her agreement, and more by her absolute vehemence on the matter.

“So…” Jordan cleared her throat, and, when her parents didn’t immediately acknowledge her, clinked her teaspoon twice against the rim of her cup. Her mother and father looked to her, expectantly. “I have something to say.”

“We’re sorry, dear. Papa and I are listening,” Kate assured her, glancing at Jim as if to make sure he was paying attention.

Jordan straightened her shoulders, like a student about to recite in front of the class. She slowly moved her eyes around the three other pairs. “Michael Carey proposed to me.”

Their parents hardly opened their mouths, but she cut them off. “And I just want to let you know that I fully accepted his proposal, and we intend for the wedding to take place as soon as possible. I don’t want anything overly fancy - we should spend the bare minimum of what’s decent. We had decided that the latter days of October work well as a date. Finally, we would prefer for the wedding to be here in Ilderton.”

All of it Jordan has pronounced with a nonchalant demeanor, as if she was no more than planning a shopping spree. A spell of silence fell on the table. Tessa glanced from her to their mother and father, waiting in suspense for any reaction to bring them out of their stunned looks.

“Well…” Kate was slowly getting back her bearings, clearly processing the news. “In that case, we must cover at least half of all the general expenses.”

“We must talk to Lady Edwina as soon as we can, to discuss all the details.” Jim looked even more shocked than his wife. “But darling...have you thought well about this?”

For a moment, Jordan looked like she was silently counting to ten. She let out a barely perceptible sigh of exasperation. “This is the most serious decision of my life thus far. I want to marry Michael, and I would like for it to happen.” Tessa caught her eye and gave her a nod and smile of encouragement. Lord knew Jo needed lots of that, beginning now.

The parents understood that any and all arguing was futile. So, the preparation for the wedding was underway in a nick of time.

*

The morning of October 20th dawned clear and mild, for the middle of autumn. The wind was transparent, and the sun, while not truly warm anymore, was gentle and comforting. Most of the foliage around Ilderton was changing. The park’s view was a chameleonic mixture of reds, golds, and oranges, combined with the bits of green that had yet to trade color.

Michael himself had arrived the day before with his mother, looking concerned about something. He told them, full of regret, that one of his planned groomsmen suffered a horse-riding injury and so was unable to do his duties.

“I’ve asked and asked, and no other people I know can be free to stand in,” he said, fidgeting with consternation. “I don’t even know what we should do. I’ll agree to have only three groomsmen, but then -” He interrupted himself and pulled another sandwich off the platter, biting into it anxiously.

“Don’t fret,” Jordan soothed, patting the hand of his that wasn’t occupied by the sandwich. “We’ll think of something. I mean, someone.” Inadvertently, her gaze strayed to Scott, who was calmly waiting behind Michael’s back to see if he had any requests for more food, or to clear his plate. Tessa noticed a flicker of realization appear in her eye.

“Scott!”

“More tea, milady?” Scott asked, at the ready to step towards her and pour at her invitation. Jordan shook her head, excitedly.

“No, no, thanks...how about this instead - Michael, say - what if Scott was our stand-in usher? He’s a great chap, and it would be perfect!”

To say that everyone was taken aback at the suggestion would be an understatement, Tessa thought, looking at their wide-eyed faces in turn. Scott blinked, and his ears reddened slightly.

“I beg your pardon?” He sounded polite, but astonished that something like that would be offered to him. It was like Jordan had said that she wanted him to appear at the reception turning cartwheels in the costume of a French acrobat.

Then, Michael piped up. “Honestly, Scott,” he said, looking at him eagerly, “I know you’re a good sport. I know your family and Jordan’s are close enough to be trusting and friendly. Jo and I would be honored if you’d accept.”

A smile appeared on Scott’s face, and Tessa nodded at him, trying to reassure him as well as Michael and Jordan did. For the briefest second, he held her gaze, never breaking his smile. Turned back to the almost-newlyweds, looking more confident.

“In that case, I’m honored to be trusted with such a role in your wedding.”

And that was that. Scott was quickly advised to divest of his plain shirt and trousers and into a morning suit, and he took his place of honor in the wedding procession queuing up outside the church, and waiting for Jordan to arrive.

*

Jordan was calm and content the whole morning, throughout the breakfast, all the way until the time when Tessa, Kate, and the other three bridesmaids went upstairs to her room to help her change into her wedding attire.

When the new, pristine ivory dress was fastened around her slender frame, and Kate’s wedding veil hung from her intricately arranged hair, Tessa stepped back to admire her sister, and was taken aback at how solemn and introspective and _grown_ Jordan was. In spite of her eighteen years, here was a grown woman, taking charge of her own fate to change it. Tessa honestly would not say she would be brave enough to do the same thing.

Kate was blinking back tears. “You look absolutely beautiful, sweet girl.” The mother and older daughter embraced, and Jordan patted Kate on her shoulder.

“Mama, please don’t cry. We’re going to visit very, very often.”

“I want you to be so happy, my biggest, oldest one,” Kate whispered, her voice emotional and unsteady.

“I will be. Don’t you worry about me. Michael and I will be the happiest, ever,” Jordan smiled, looking back at Kate with gentle reassurance. Tessa came up to them, then, and drew both into a tight hug. Here, Ashley, Jessica, and Gabrielle tactfully picked up the cue and left the mother and daughters for a moment of privacy.

Kate was the first to pull away, beaming. “Children, I must go speak a moment with Mrs. Moir. Everything is prepared, so you come down whenever you are also ready.”

“I will. Thank you.” A final kiss on the cheek from Jordan to her mother, and the Countess left, shutting the door softly.

Tessa was left alone with her sister, who sat down gingerly on her chair, taking care not to wrinkle her dress. She too sat on the edge of Jo’s bed, and looked at her. She felt that she should say something, some sort of congratulation or encouragement, though, Jordan looked every inch the happy bride. No, her whole face did not shine with a smile, and she wasn’t full of jittery anxiety, but she looked tranquil and sure of herself. That, Tessa supposed, was key. Jo was lost in her own thoughts, toying with the lacy hem of her sleeve, appearing to ponder something.

“I’m going to miss Ilderton. All of you, even more so.” Jordan’s remark was so quiet that Tessa almost missed it.

“If you’re having the slightest second thought -”

“No. Nothing of the sort.” The bride’s voice was quiet but decisive. “Please, don’t think I have regrets. I just didn’t expect I’d miss everyone already.”

“But…”

“Tessa, I won’t go back on this because of a moment of trepidation. Today is my wedding day and I will see to it that my future husband and I will have the best marriage possible.”

Tessa sighed, and got the impulse to hug her sister again, which she immediately did. “I love you, Jo-Jo.”

“Love you too, Tessie,” was the slightly muffled reply. A knock on the door alerted them back to the present.

“Jo? Is everything alright? We’re due for the church in ten minutes!”

“Yes! Tess and I are coming!” Jordan called back, and the sisters traded smiles.

“Mama and Papa are about to lay an egg from the worry. They probably think I’ll lock myself in my bedroom at the last second, and refuse to go to church, like that Consuelo Vanderbilt woman,” she joked, a tad nervously. Tessa knew the story distantly - Consuelo was an acquaintance of an acquaintance, an American socialite who was forced by her mother to marry an English duke.

“But Mama and Papa aren’t forcing you to marry. And you have no other admirer on the side, do you?” Jordan smirked to her little sister’s reply.

“You know it. Neither does Mickey. We’re going into this with equal inexperience.”

“He’s Mickey now, eh?”

Jordan smirked again, swatting her sister gently on the hand. “Well, I’m going to be his wife. I can’t always call him formally. And he calls me Jo or Josie. At least, he did back in Dorset. He asked me what I’d like him to nickname me, and I said my parents and you call me Jo. He seemed to like that a lot.”

Suddenly, Tessa remembered another thing. “Listen, what did Mama talk to you for so long about? Yesterday evening, I mean?”

Jordan’s cheeks colored such a bright pink that it was visible even over the hint of rouge on her skin. “She was…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, like someone could be listening in at the door on the other side. “She was telling me about, um, marital relations. What I should expect.”

Tessa gasped and let out a half-embarrassed giggle, which her sister returned, suddenly looking even more like a giddy wife-to-be, and losing her composure.

“And what are those relations _like?”_ Tessa couldn’t help inquiring, with more shyness mixed in with curiosity. But Jordan smirked knowingly, and shook her head.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out in due time. Mama didn’t skimp on any detail, either. I was like this -” she mimed a gasp and clapped a hand over her mouth - “almost the whole time. It was quite...enlightening.”

“But what did she _say?”_

Jordan grinned and flicked her sister’s nose lightly. “Come on, Tess. You can’t ask me that and I can’t very well answer.” She assumed a smug air of one who knew something no one else did. “All I will say is that I’m excited to go on honeymoon and find out for myself.”

“That’s naughty!” Tessa exclaimed, blushing harder and sending Jordan into a laughing fit in turn. When they managed to catch their breaths, Jordan now looked as sure as ever. Her eyes sparkled with her customary confidence.

“I needed that. Now I feel ready for anything.”

But of course, her almost-married sister meant _ready for sleeping with a man in the same bed. Being a wife._

The very idea sent Tessa’s mind awhirl. A quite shocking image of herself and Scott lying side-by-side in bed _(with no clothes on,_ said Scott’s voice in her head), had her almost gasping again. However, when the instantaneous astonishment passed, she was baffled to discover that she wasn’t averse to the idea. She’d say the image was...intriguing.

“Ahem...Tess? Did I lose you?”

Tessa blinked, trying to focus back onto the conversation with her sister, relieved that she wasn’t able to see the same picture. “Sorry. It’s just so...I guess I’ll have to get used to the idea of you living somewhere else now. I will miss you too, Jo.”

Jordan gave her a gentle smile. “I won’t be that far away, sweetheart. Like I’ve said, we’ll visit every chance we get - and so will you, I hope.”

“Right, not that far away, only two hours’ traveling,” Tessa chuckled. “But I’ll write to you. Pages and pages of letters. I’ll even go down to the telegraph and send you messages, and ask to use their telephone, and - ”

Jordan was laughing again, moving to embrace her one more time. “All right, all right. I have to admit, no one’s ever gone to such great lengths to communicate with boring old me.”

“You’re never boring, Jo. You’re a wonderful gem of a person, and if Michael thinks he can take you for granted, he’s heavily wrong, and shall answer directly to me,” Tessa declared, looking at Jordan seriously, without any light-hearted flippancy. Jordan rolled her eyes.

“Easy, Avenging Sister. I promise you Mick will always treat me as I deserve. Shall we go down to them now?” She gave Tessa’s hand a last squeeze and rose.

“I suppose now’s high time. Don’t be nervous, most of all. Today is your big day. Enjoy it,” Tessa said, standing too, and opening the door for her sister.

“And tonight can be my big night,” Jordan grinned. They made their way downstairs, giggling at the cheeky reminder.

*

It was decided that first, the ring-bearers will step into the church and process down the aisle to Michael. In spite of being older than the usual flower-girl age and, well, girls, the twin cousins, Alix and Lavvie, were unanimously voted the ring bearers by Jordan and her groom. Looking uncommonly solemn, the twins slowly walked inside as soon as the first strains of the choir song sounded from inside the church. But two identical grins of mischief told Tessa that the younger girls were only pretending to be serious, and couldn’t wait for the reception to be their usual boisterous selves.

“Our turn now,” said a voice near Tessa’s ear. That was Edgar, Michael’s cousin and best man, offering her the crook of his arm. Tessa gave him a smile and together, they proceeded behind the Lavvie and Alix. Tessa could not see who was right behind them, but she felt it: there was Scott, undoubtedly following them, next to his paired bridesmaid, Ashley Wagner. A rather large part of Tessa was sorry that it wasn’t she walking into church paired up with Scott, even though she had nothing against Edgar. She blushed involuntarily, hearing the soft compliments floating from the guests in the pews, still a trifle uneasy with being under so much attention. It was Jordan’s day, not hers, and she was glad that the focus would shift from her to her sister in a few minutes.

Tessa let Edgar lead her to the right side and her rehearsed spot, just in time for her to watch Scott let Ashley go stand next to her, and then their eyes met briefly. That was enough for him to send her a discreet wink; she felt herself perk up with goosebumps, shyly smiling at him in return, even after he took his place next to Edgar. She felt her hands dampen around the tiny bridesmaid’s bouquet she was holding, and hoped that she wasn’t blushing like fury under the gazes of all the guests. Finally, the two other pairs of attendants filed in, and the suspense hung in the air. Tessa remarked how Michael squared his shoulders ever-so-briefly, but a smile brightened his face, in spite of him being with his back to the aisle. Tradition dictated that he wait for his bride without facing her, and Tessa was both excited for him and understanding of how nervous and exhilarated he must have been feeling right then.

At last, the choir toned their melody down a notch, and it became reverent, atmospheric. The subtle shift prompted all the guests to rise out of their seats as one, as, step by step, Jordan and the Earl stepped onto the aisle.

Gasps and murmurs of admiration sounded from every corner of the church, as each pair of eyes fastened to the father and daughter. Jordan had a soft smile, while Jim was nearly bursting with pride, as if he was leading his daughter to marry the King.

“What a delightful bride!”

“An angel!”

And, as soon as Jordan took her place beside Michael, and he beamed at her, “Truly a magnificent couple! Bless them!”

The melée of guests watched, raptured, as Jordan and Michael exchanged vows. Tessa, through her own haze of happy tears, noted that the three mothers - her own, Edwina, and even Alma - wiped at their eyes with small hankies, smiling at the bride and groom. And again, she was transported into a mental image where she herself stood next to someone at the top of the aisle, at the altar; someone with soft, tousled hair, warm hazel eyes, someone who looked a lot like -

A tumult of applause and cheering nudged her out of the daydream just in time to see Jordan and Michael grin at each other and at their welcome as Marquess and Marchioness. Goodness, was it truly she who imagined her wedding to _Scott_ , like some wishy-washy little girl? She was now the sister of one of the most influential peeresses in the country; she had to stop wasting time with girlish fancies like that. Yet, as soon as she glimpsed Scott again in the throng of well-wishers outside the church, Tessa knew that the image of them as a couple getting married would not leave her for some time.

Unsurprisingly, it was Edgar who had first approached her about dancing, once the dinner was over and once Jo and Michael had their own first wedded dance. Tessa had been sitting at the wedding attendants’ table, half-participating in Ashley, Gabrielle, and Jessica’s conversation, when the best man approached her.

“Allow me to ask you to waltz, Tessa,” he said, giving her a slight bow and offering his hand. The three other bridesmaids giggled and prompted her to accept, in hushed whispers. She smiled, reasoning that she might as well. Scott, she noticed, was talking to Michael and her sister like old friends did, not at all like a servant to the aristocrats. Somehow, the fact that he wasn’t dancing with another girl comforted her a bit, but she wondered if he would care that she was going to dance with Edgar.

He was a good dancer, polite, considerate, and quite graceful. Tessa fixed her gaze over his shoulder, even if she wasn’t shy at all to meet eyes with him, whenever it happened. He was taller than her, and attractive with his brown hair and dark blue eyes. His hand in hers and his arm around her waist was delicate and took no liberties. Still, with all of it, Tessa felt no connection to him, nothing like that spark of interest and pleasure that she felt whenever she was in Scott’s proximity. When the dance ended, she wasn’t regretting it, and she noticed that Edgar sensed that.

“Fancy a stroll?” He offered her the crook of his elbow again, leaning towards her. Tessa had the impression that he was grasping at straws to stay near her. As much as she liked him as a person, she knew she needed to make it clear that her attention was there strictly because she was the maid of honor and he the chief groomsman.

“Mr. Kensington…”

“Please, just Edgar.”

‘Just Edgar’ waited patiently while she searched for the appropriate words. The invitation to call him casually, too, was a hint that he was ready for more.

“I’d offer you a stroll, but no more hopes along with that,” she said carefully, as if waiting for his mood to become upset and grumpy. The only reaction was a slight nod. “I’m sorry,” she added, hoping that it didn’t sound like an afterthought.

“Don’t apologize, Tessa,” he replied, seriously, but with good humor. “Believe me, I understand. I’d be the lowest of cads to cast on you a romance of which you don’t want to be part.”

That was all Tessa needed. To be understood. She was so glad that Edgar didn’t make petty scenes at being rejected, that she hardly felt sorry to do the rejection in the first place.

After the cake cutting came the bridal bouquet throw. Tessa joined the small crowd of unmarried girls - she wouldn’t say that she believed in the fanciful superstition of the ritual, but decided to try her luck just because. She didn’t even care about getting married, either. At fifteen, why hurry, indeed, she reasoned. Scott was watching her with a soft, amused smile, like he didn’t expect her to catch it. As it were, there was a duel for the coveted bunch of white peony and orange blossoms: Jessica and Ashley were engaged, and exchanged glances of playful rivalry, while Jordan was exaggeratedly turning around, accompanied by the cheering and encouragement of the onlooking guests.

Jordan swung her arm up.

The bouquet sailed up in a clean arc, right past Jessica and Ashley’s outstretched arms, past Gabrielle Daleman, exclaiming her surprise, and Tessa looked down automatically.

The fragrant bunch landed right at her feet.

Everyone hushed. Tessa, blushing hard at being thrown in the middle of this conundrum, bent as gracefully as she could manage and picked the bouquet up, to carry it towards Ashley and Jessica. The two stared at her, bewildered and about to protest, but she cut it off with a firm explanation.

“Girls, I’m hardly the one to be the first to marry. God knows you two wanted it, so why don’t you share the reward? I can’t keep it to myself after seeing how serious you are about it.”

Jessica squealed and even shed some happy tears, and Ashley followed her, gathering Tessa and the bouquet into an exuberant hug. Gabrielle joined them, and all the guests chuckled, clearly endeared. Through the mayhem, Tessa caught Scott’s sly grin and when she did, he applauded, playfully pretending to be impressed by her ‘selflessness.’

Later, the crowd began to dwindle, as the guests who were near neighbors said their last congratulations and set out. Some other guests remained, many of them dancing or helping themselves to the wedding desserts and champagne from the table, and now and then, a good-naturedly tipsy uncle or family friend came by the newlyweds to congratulate them with enthusiastic back-clapping and toasts.

Twilight was falling, and crickets chirped here and there. Fireflies fluttered in the brisk autumn breeze, like echoes of the customary after-wedding fireworks that Jordan and Michael opted to forgo. The couple themselves were conversing at their table, and snippets of quiet laughter were heard. For all Jordan’s admitted lack of passionate adoration for her new husband, she appeared delighted by their conversation, which was a good omen for the beginning of their marriage.

Tessa let herself plonk down onto a solitary bench in the garden alcove. She, for her part, wasn’t seeking anyone’s company in particular. As much as she enjoyed parties, and for sure had fun at her sister’s wedding, social gatherings with many people always tired her out if they went on for hours. She sat contemplatively for a moment, just taking the evening in. Her mind, unexpectedly, wandered off to Scott - where was he now? What was he doing? Last she saw him, he was leading the duet of Alix and Lavvie, who were the loudest in ringing spoons against their glasses to make Jordan and Michael kiss.

_He’s so good with children. They like him and he likes them,_ Tessa thought. It was true: all the children that the Virtues knew flocked to Scott, seeing him as a sort of brother and friend all combined. It was only fair, she figured, since he had the biggest heart of anyone she knew, for all it overtook his reason sometimes. He was never ill-intentioned in his impulse to do good and care about those he counted important.

“ ‘Twas a great wedding, Lady Tessa.”

As if on cue, the amused, gentle voice of the one currently occupying her mind sounded near her, and then Scott himself was settling beside her on the bench. Abruptly Tessa felt warmer, which was strange, given the sharply cool October temperature. She didn’t even have the time to say anything in reply, when he took her hand and laced their fingers together, as if that was the most natural thing in the world. A wave of warmth passed from their touching hands all over Tessa’s body. Just like that, all she wanted to do was kiss him, again. And again. And then a few more times.

“It was. But I’m not even the bride, and I’m worn out,” she said, smiling softly, but her heart picked up all the same. Scott gave a nod, smiling too.

“I know you don’t like rowdy parties to go on forever, kiddo,” he observed. Tessa’s breath hitched, as soon as she realized that he was lightly rubbing his thumb against her palm. She shifted closer to him half-consciously. Her elbow nudged his. She felt the warmth of his gaze on her face, and had to turn her head and face him.

“No, I don’t,” she agreed. “I’d hardly call this a rowdy party. It was beautiful. Jo and Michael are such a lovely couple, and I wish them so much joy and love.”

Scott’s expression softened further; she seemed to get pulled into the tender hazelness of his eyes.

“ _You_ were the most beautiful today.”

She blushed instantly, letting out a chuckle, self-conscious and yet pleased at such an assessment.

“That’s hardly true. Jordan was - she was the bride,” she murmured. Her face was so close to his now that she felt his soft breath touch her lips.

To that, Scott shook his head again, eyes looking deep into hers. “You’re a delight, Tess.”

By instinct, her eyelids fluttered to a close, and then his lips were brushing against her own. Softly, at first, like he was making sure she was fine with it, but she grasped his head in her hands, when the wish to keep her mouth touching his intensified. The deeper it got, she felt the sigh of longing and relief that he let out, and when his tongue brushed against hers, she couldn’t resist choking out a giddy giggle. Delight, he said? It was delight. His mouth was made of it, and his hands roaming through her hair, and his scent enveloping her.

It stopped when they parted, and Tessa was ready to pout with disappointment, but Scott’s grin, so affectionately boyish, made her reconsider. Who said this was their last kiss? Not she, nor he either, she certainly hoped.

Tessa knew that, according to etiquette, she had to do a few ridiculously affected gestures, like hiding her face, blushing on demand, and that stupid high little laugh of artificial shyness. She wouldn’t do any of it, not when being near Scott, hearing him say such sincere words, _kissing_ him made her want to be nothing but her truest self.

“I swear by that moon up there,” Scott said quietly in her ear, gesturing up, and she shivered with a never before-experienced joy. “It won’t let me lie. You’re wonderful.”

“So are you,” Tessa whispered back.

Bathed in the silvery glow and each other’s presence, they only just managed to hear the voices of their mothers, which cast a temporary curtain on this fairytale night. Until next time, no later.

_November 11, 1918_

The morning reverberated all over Ilderton Hall with one phrase, in slightly different variations:

“The war is over! Germany surrendered! No more war!”

Everything and everyone was in mayhem, from dawn. Tessa was excused from classes at the Lauzon Lyceum: the school indeed had closed for the day, due to all-around celebrations in town and the whole country. The staff at Ilderton was so much more relaxed and uplifted in mood, and even the ever-vigilant Mrs. Moir closed her eyes at all the rule-bending. As soon as Jim Virtue gathered everyone and read them the official headline from the newspaper, a general pandemonium had broken out, with each and every one of them leaping to hug all the others, exclaiming in joy and shedding tears, most notably Kate and Alma.

“The soldiers, Jimmy,” Kate remembered, dabbing the last of her happy tears away. “We have to go congratulate our remaining patients!”

Right after breakfast, Jim, Kate, and Tessa went to the temporary hospital room. Tessa would be there for the first-ever time, having been too young to venture near the ill and injured up to that point. She was both curious and slightly timid at the prospect of finally meeting those who have contributed to the victory, in whatever small way of their own.

“The war has ended! The armistice was signed today. Congratulations, gentlemen!” Jim announced, and a whoop and cheer went up from the beds.

There were only five beds at present, and the soldiers were recovering before getting ready to set out for home. Four of the men were still bandaged over various limbs, but one of them differed from the others. He seemed to not share the jubilation, and offered a wide but pained smile at the news. With a pang of sympathy, Tessa realized that he, the fifth soldier, did not cheer not because he did not care that the war was over, but that something invisible weakened him physically.

Her parents and she took turns going around to shake each soldier’s hands. When the fifth one’s hand clasped hers, Tessa had a bizarre, instantaneous sense that she already knew him. Logically, she knew it was not true - she was seeing him for the first time. The way he looked at her was disconcerting, though it wasn’t even that he was better-looking than the others. Never a superficial one, Tessa singled him out as the youngest and most attractive one, and it was true. A poet, in fact, rather than a soldier, was he that had the fair head of pale-golden hair, the set of intelligent and observant brown eyes.

“The war is over,” she reiterated, a bit awkwardly, to start the conversation. The soldier brightened with another genuine smile.

“That it is, my lady. And a damn good time it is,” he chuckled, making her laugh a little, too. After a few more routine general phrases about the new victory, when the man asked:

“Are you the daughter of the Earl?”

“I am. It’s just me in Ilderton now. My older sister married the Marquess of Dorset last month, and moved away ever since.”

What Tessa did not expect was for the soldier’s face to change from serenity to a mute shock, as soon as she shared about Jordan. She was right about to ask him if he was well, when he composed himself with a rapid effort, like he hadn’t just looked stunned to within an inch of his life. Filing away the odd reaction to think about later, she said her goodbyes to him and left the room, along with her mother and father.

She forgot about it the next day, when she again considered going down to the hospital room and asking him about it. By now, she was almost sure that the soldier, Captain James Smith, had some sort of secret connected to Jordan’s new home.

Yet, she met a very serious Rachel down in the room, bustling around the agitated Captain Smith’s bed. Tessa beckoned her to ask what was wrong. The poor soldier appeared to be consumed with a fitful, uneasy sleep.

“The Beautiful Soldier’s _so_ ill,” Rachel said, with intense pity. “The doctor just was here a minute ago. He said it’s consumption, and that he’s got mere days left. If not less.”

It was macabre, but the casual nickname that Rachel and Tessa both privately gave James wasn’t wrong. Even battling the illness, he remained both fragile and captivating.

On the bed, James almost woke up with a coughing fit so strong that he reached a hand for a handkerchief to cover his mouth. When he fell back onto the pillow restlessly, Tessa saw, with no small amount of fear, that the scrap of cotton was spotted with dark pink blood.

“Poor man,” she whispered. “To live to see victory, and die shortly after. But maybe he won’t -” Yet, seeing Rachel’s helpless, sad expression, Tessa knew that every hope here was probably useless.

“I’ve heard the doctor say to your father that people with consumption don’t live long, and soldiers who go to battle with it, even less,” the maid told her quietly.

Behind them, James coughed with effort again, like hanging on to his very soul for dear life.

 

Tessa wanted to talk to him; she had no idea why she was so desperate to, at the same time. So, she snuck out that very night, wanting to at least give the poor James some comfort, even if no talking or revelations transpired.

A candle burned at the bedside. James slept, his breathing hoarse, murmuring something vague in his troubled dreams. Tessa sat on the bed adjacent to his.

“I’m so praying that you would live, poor thing,” she spoke to the sleeping figure. “I have this strange sense that I just know you from somewhere.”

James’s voice got louder. “I killed him,” he moaned, tossing his head. “I killed him.”

Tessa jolted out of her sympathetic daze. The young man, little older than she, really, had already experienced murder. She couldn’t begin to understand how it felt to him, to remember it, to remember _doing_ it.

“I know,” she finally swallowed the lump in her throat. “Don’t feel guilty for doing what you had to.” James frowned, then, and shook his head vigorously.

“Tillie knows. She knows I killed him. I want her to forgive me. She forgave me, I know.”

Tessa startled, taking his hand. “Oh James, I’m sure Tillie forgave you. I’m sure she did.” Whoever _Tillie_ was, she seemed to mean the world to James, whose half-dreaming face assumed a tender and soft demeanor. The other alarming thing was that his hand burned hers, and she realized that he was consumed with a raging fever.

He said no more, as Tessa tried her hardest to remember where she could possibly have seen this pale hair, these dark eyes, abnormally bright at the moment.

Like all shocks, it nearly swayed her, without warning.

The surprised reaction when she spoke about Dorset.

That golden mass of hair, those eyes of a storybook prince.

She’d seen them on a portrait.

There was too much for it to be only coincidences.

_“Jasper,”_ she gasped, leaning closer to him, suddenly frantic for him to answer, to acknowledge her. “You’re Jasper Carey.”

James - and yet not James, was he? - snapped his eyes open, the delirium releasing him for the briefest time. He blinked, and shook his head.

“I killed him,” he insisted. “I killed him, and I killed myself. No more Jasper, no more Dorset,” he rushed to explain, the way sinners confess on their deathbed. But Tessa was full of a steely determination. Maybe he wasn’t doomed after all.

“Jasper, wait for me,” she pleaded, jumping up. “Please wait. I’ll come back.”

“Papa! Papa!” she shouted, blindly tearing down the hallway. Miraculously, her father was there, but looked baffled when she nearly collided into him.

“Tessa? What on earth are you doing in the sickroom, child?”

“Papa, James Smith needs a doctor,” Tessa gasped, praying he’d _do something._ “James, I mean, Jasper, he’s Jasper Carey. He’s Michael’s brother, I’m sure of it.”

“Wait...Edwina’s older boy? They were almost certain he was dead years ago!” Her father wasn’t in a hurry to be convinced, but Tessa grabbed his forearms, willing him to believe her.

“I’ve seen his portrait at the Careys,’ and he looks just like he does in the canvas! It’s not just a coincidence. Papa, we’re out of time! He’s seriously ill, he’s...he’s...dying! You need to call the doctor, we need to notify Michael, and…”

Jim snapped into action, as quickly as he was able to. “Damn this world, damn this small world,” he muttered, irrelevantly, before he practically ran outside, shouting for Joe Moir to prepare him a ride to the telegraph.

Tessa raced back to the hospital room, horrified at the prospect of seeing Jasper dead, but he was still struggling to live, whether eagerly or by instinct.

“Jasper, your mother and brother are coming,” she soothed. “Wait for them, just a few minutes, I promise, no more than a few minutes…”

Jasper opened his eyes a fraction. “Tillie,” he sighed, and, to her absolute panic, Tessa wasn’t able to do much more than watch him draw his last breaths. With a little sob, she saw his chest still its movement, second by second.

When Edwina, Michael, and Jordan rushed into the room, the doctor at their heels, Jasper’s body was still warm, but his heart had stopped.

 


End file.
